COMEDIES   IN   MINIATURE 


ke  perches  on  an  arm  of  a  chair. 


COMEDIES  IN  MINIATURE 

BY 
MARGARET   CAMERON 


ALDI 


Frontispiece  by   Harrison  Fisher 


McCLURE,   PHILLIPS  $  CO 

NEW  YORK 

MCMIII 


COPYRIGHT,  1903,  BY 
McCLURE,   PHILLIPS  &  CO. 

Published,  October,  1903  N 


e* 


To  My  Mother 


851007 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE 

In  presenting  these  plays  and  monologues  to  the 
public,  the  publishers  have  in  mind  not  only  their 
interest  as  literature  for  the  general  reader,  but 
their  special  value  for  those  interested  in  amateur 
dramaticals  as  well.  All  of  the  pieces  here  printed 
were  written  expressly  to  be  acted,  and  have  been 
performed  with  great  success  by  amateur  actors  m 
various  parts  of  the  country;  two  of  them  have 
even  had  the  distinction  and  guarantee  of  a  per 
formance  by  the  students  of  Mr.  Franklm  H.  Sar 
gent's  school,  the  American  Academy  of  Dramatic 
Arts.  Of  Mrs.  Cameron's  work  Mr.  Sargent  has 
expressed  himself  as  follows: 

"Theatrically  and  dramatically  I  can  say  that 
I  believe  her  plays  are  most  unusual  and  valuable. 
In  the  midst  of  the  great  dearth  and  second-rate 
results,  which  are  so  common  m  the  playwrit'mg 
field,  the  plays  of  Mrs.  Cameron  seem,  to  myself 
and  my  associates  of  the  Academy,  to  be  excep 
tionally  brilliant,  dramatically  effective,  and  the 
atrically  valuable.  I  have  never  read  a  modern 
fvii] 


PUBLISHERS'   NOTE 

writer  who  had  such  a  fine  and  complete  insight  of 
femmine  characterisation  and  whose  delineation  of 
female  character  was  more  accurate  and  mterest- 
ing.  The  dialogue  alone  is  so  full  of  human  spirit 
and  brilliancy  of  thought  and  feeling  that  I  am 
sure  the  enthusiastic  readers  of  her  plays  when  pub 
lished  will  be  many.  Mrs.  Cameron  is  doing  better 
work  to-day  and  shows  more  promise  than  any 
other  woman  playwright  within  my  immediate 
knowledge." 

There  are  few  enough  plays  at  the  present  day 
suitable  for  representation  on  the  amateur  stage, 
it  would  seem,  to  make  such  a  collection  as  this  of 
Mrs.  Cameron's  of  considerable  importance  to 
those  who,  having  exhausted  the  few  old  favour 
ites,  are  at  a  loss  for  fresh  material. 


[  viii  ] 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Miss  DOULTON'S  ORCHIDS 1 

THE  BURGLAR 77 

THE  KLEPTOMANIAC 119 

A  PIPE  OF  PEACE 198 

A  CHRISTMAS  CHIME 237 

THE  COMMITTEE  ON  MATRIMONY  .      .      .      .      .  283 

HER  NEIGHBOUR'S  CREED 315 

UNEXPECTED  GUESTS 335 

THE  P.  A.   I.  L.  W.  R 345 

IN  A  STREET-CAR 355 

A  PATRON  OF  ART                                ....  367 


IX 


MISS  DOULTON'S  ORCHIDS 


MISS  DOULTON'S  ORCHIDS 

A  Comedy  in  Two  Parts 

CHARACTERS 

Cecily  Belknap. 

Bess  Maynard. 

Polly  Winslow. 

Owen  Belknap. 

Gordon  McAllister. 

Kenneth  Moore,  Belknap1  s  cousin. 


PART  I 

Morning 

The  leaded  casements  in  the  living-room  of  the 
Belknaps'  suburban  house  stand  open  to  admit  the 
warm  morning  air,  giving  glimpses  of  trees  and  a 
garden  beyond.  A  door  on  the  right,  leading  to  a 
veranda,  is  also  open.  Other  doors  at  the  back  and 
on  the  left  lead  respectively  to  the  hall  and  the 
library.  The  room  is  charmingly  furnished,  flow 
ers,  books,  magazines,  and  a  multitude  of  cushions 
giving  evidence  of  constant  and  familiar  occupancy. 

CECILY  BELKNAP,  a  smiling,  vivacious,  gracious 
young  matron  of  twenty-Jive,  is  discovered  in  confi 
dential  chat  with  BESS  MAYNARD,  a  spinster  of 
thirty,  whose  mildly  cynical  point  of  view  is  indicated 
by  a  slightly  satirical  smile  and  contradicted  by  the 
quick  sympathy  of  her  glance.  Both  wear  cotton 
morning  gowns. 

CECILY  (continuing  conversation). 

And   Polly  declares   she's   going  home   next   week. 

I  hope  she  hasn't  quarrelled  with  Ken,  but  I  can't 

[3] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

think  of  anything  else  that  should  send  her  off  in 
this  sudden  fashion. 

BESS. 

I  thought  she  was  going  to  stay  another  month. 

CECILY. 

So  did  I,  until  this  morning.  Fm  sure  that  was  her 
intention  when  she  came,  and  I  can't  think  of  any 
thing  that  can  have  happened  except,  as  I  say,  she 
may  have  quarrelled  with  Ken. 

BESS  (glancing  out  the  window). 

Well,  if  she  has  there  are  symptoms  of  a  reconcilia 
tion,  for  she  has  just  appeared  in  the  garden  and 
he  is  racing  down  the  walk  to  overtake  her. 

CECILY  (springing  up  to  look  out). 

Really  ?  Oh,  good  !  I  do  wish  those  two  would 
make  a  match  ! 

BESS. 

I  wonder  what  there  is  in  the  early  stages  of  matri 
mony  that  infects  all  women  with  the  match-making 
microbe  ?  Nobody  seems  to  escape. 

CECILY. 

It's  because  we  want  to  see  all  our  friends  as  happy 
[4] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

as  we  are.  Bess  (wistfully),  aren't  you  ever  going 
to  marry  ? 

BESS  (cheerfully). 

Well,  not  until  I'm  asked,  anyway. 

CECILY. 

Oh,  nonsense !  You've  refused  nearly  every  man 
you  know !  I  asked  Gordon  McAllister  why  he 
hadn't  proposed  to  you 

BESS. 

Cecily! 

CECILY  (lightly). 

Oh,  you  know  Gordon  proposes  to  everybody !  He 
said  that  no  man  voluntarily  bored  a  woman  with 
repetitions,  and  that  it  was  understood  that  all 
known  forms  of  proposal  had  been  exhausted  upon 
you  without  effect. 

BESS  (with  dignity). 
Really,  Cecily,  you  must  not 

CECILY  (airily). 

Now,  don't  mount  your  prancing  steed  in  that 
fashion  !  At  home  it  was  perfectly  understood  that 
Gordon  should  propose  to  all  the  girls  every  sum 
mer.  It  was  part  of  the  programme  for  the  season 
[5] 


COMEDIES   IN    MINIATURE 

— and,  I  must  say,  he  does  it  well!  We  used  to 
wonder,  sometimes,  what  he'd  do  if  one  of  us  should 
accept  him.  I  threatened  to  do  it  once,  just  for 
fun,  but  Owen  came  that  summer,  and  I  forgot  it. 

BESS  (drily). 

Then  Mr.  McAllister  is  a  sort  of  sentimental  reser 
voir,  is  he?  Always  on  tap? 

CECILY. 

Exactly  !  Come  to  think  of  it,  Bess,  I  believe  you're 
the  only  unmarried  woman  he  has  ever  known  to 
whom  he  hasn't  proposed.  I  wonder  if  it  means 
anything? 

BESS  (with  a  short  laugh). 
Cecily,  yo j  are  incorrigible !    Oh,  here  comes  Polly. 

Enter  from  the  veranda  POLLY  WINSLOW,  an 
impulsive,  tender-eyed,  radiant  girl  of  twenty- 
two,  carrying  a  handful  of  letters.  She  is  fol 
lowed  almost  immediately  by  OWEN  BELKNAP, 
a  tall,  vigorous,  well-knit  man  of  thirty,  whose 
happy  habit  takes  him  at  once  to  his  wife's 
side;  and  GORDON  MCALLISTER,  a  bachelor  of 
thirty-eight,  shrewd,  genial,  kindly;  a  squire 
of  dames  whom  many  seasons  of  social  flattery 
[6] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

have  not  sufficed  to  spoil,  and  whose  popularity 
is  even  greater  among  men  than  among  women. 
The  men  carry  the  morning  papers. 

POLLY. 

The  boy  has  just  brought  the  mail.  Here  are  two 
for  you,  Cecily,  and  three  for  me,  and  one  for — 
Mr.  Moore. 

CECILY  (at  window,  calling). 
Ken !    Oh,  Ken !    Here's  a  letter  for  you. 

POLLY. 

Mine  are  from  home.  One  from  mamma  and  one 
from (KENNETH  MOORE,  an  impulsive,  good- 
natured,  quick,  boyish  fellow  of  twenty-four,  ap 
pears  in  the  doorwny  leading  to  the  veranda.) 

KENNETH. 

A  letter  for  me?    Who  from? 

CECILY. 

How  should  we  know  ?     (  KENNETH  takes  the  letter 
and  opens  it,  with  a  murmured  apology.     CECILY 
sighs  as  she  reads  her  mail.)     Oh,  me!     Another 
Hearts  party !     That  makes  three  next  week ! 
[7] 


COMEDIES   IN  MINIATURE 

BESS. 

That's  because  you're  so  deplorably  good-natured, 
Cecily.  Nobody  invites  me  to  Hearts  parties. 

GORDON. 

Since  your  life  is  a  perpetual  game  of  Hearts,  Miss 
Maynard,  they  probably  hesitate  to  match  their  in 
experience  against  your  skill. 

KENNETH. 

I  say!  This  letter's  from  Fred  Grover.  He 
says 

POLLY  (looking  up  from  her  letters). 

Fred  Grover?  Isn't  he  the  man  who's  in  love  with 
Marie  Doulton? 

BESS 

(mischievously  glancing  at  OWEN  and  KENNETH, 
who  frown  uneasily). 

The  man?  Has  anybody  arrived  at  the  distinction 
of  being  the  man?  Did  ever  any  man  know  Marie 
Doulton  without  falling  in  love  with  her? 

OWEN 

(aside  to  BESS,  as  he  makes  opportunity  to  pass 
near  her ) . 

Oh,  what's  the  use  of  raking  up  old  skeletons? 
[8] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Why,  you  knew  her,  didn't  you,  Owen,  before  she 
went  on  the  stage? 

OWEN. 
Yes.     Yes,  of  course;  I  knew  her.     (BESS  conceals 

a  smile.) 

CECILY. 

There,  Bess !    There's  one  man. 

BESS. 

Oh,  well — she  wasn't  an  actress  then.  That  makes 
all  the  difference  in  the  world,  you  know.  (OWEN 
and  KENNETH  throw  her  relieved  glances. ) 

KENNETH 
(aside  to  BESS,  leaning  over  her  chair  as  he  goes 

to  join  POKLY). 
You're  a  good  fellow,  Bess,  if  you  are  a  tease! 

POLLY  (half  absorbed  in  her  mail). 
They  say  Fred  Grover  has  completely  lost  his  heart. 

KENNETH. 

And  his  head  as  well,  if  I'm  any  judge.  He  says 
she's  coming  here 

BESS. 

Why,  is  she?     I  didn't  know  that. 
[9] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

KENNETH. 

Yes,  she  opens  in  town  to-night,  and  Fred  says 

POLLY. 

Is  she  as  beautiful  as  people  say?  I've  never  seen 
her. 

BESS. 

She's  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  ever  saw — and 
the  most  fascinating. 

GORDON. 

You  know  her?     You're  fond  of  her? 

BESS. 

I  went  to  school  with  her. 

GORDON  (with  enthusiasm). 
Let's  all  go  to  see  her ! 

OWEN  (laughing). 

"The  ruling  passion"  !  It's  no  use,  Gordon !  She's 
adamant.  Wealth,  position,  titles,  love,  separately 
and  in  combination,  have  all  failed  to  tempt  her 
from  the  stage. 

GORDON. 

I  suppose  one  may  look  at  her?    Can  she  act? 
[10] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
KENNETH. 

Can  she  act !  Good  heavens,  man,  where  have  you 
lived?  She  had  New  York  literally  at  her  feet  last 
season. 

GORDON. 

That's  no  criterion.  New  York  is  essentially  mas 
culine,  and  its  judgment  of  a  woman  is  not  to  be 
trusted — especially  if  she  be  good  to  look  at.  I  ask 
you,  can  she  act? 

OWEN. 

She  can!     All  together,  now!     (Waves  his  arms.) 

OWEN,   KENNETH,    CECILY,   BESS 

(in  unison,  laughing). 
She  can! 

OWEN. 

Now,  are  you  satisfied? 

GORDON. 

Entirely.  When  shall  we  go  to  see  her?  I'll  get  a 
box. 

CECILY. 
To-morrow  night? 

GORDON. 

To-morrow  night.     I'll  'phone  for  seats  at  once. 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
CECILY. 

Don't  get  a  stage-box,  Gordon.  One  never  sees  any 
thing  but  the  audience,  and  the  prompter  in  the 
flies. 

GORDON. 
You  come  and  conduct  the  negotiations,  then. 

CECILY. 

Very  well.  Come  on,  girls,  we'll  all  go  and  super 
intend  Gordon's  order. 

(BESS,  CECILY,  POLLY,  and  GORDON  troop  out  to 
the  hall,  laughing  and  chatting  as  they  go.) 

KENNETH. 

Say,  Owen,  haven't  you  ever  told  Cecily  about  your 
affair  with  Marie? 

OWEN. 

Well — er — no.  You  see,  it  wouldn't  do  any  partic 
ular  good,  and  it  might  worry  her,  so 

KENNETH  (thoughtfully). 

H'm.  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  Well  (laughing)  Fred 
seems  to  be  going  the  usual  pace.  He  wants  me 
to 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

Enter  CECILY  from  the  hall  with  a  telegram,  which 
she  hands  to  OWEN. 


CECILY. 

Here's  a  message  for  you,  Owen,  marked  "rush." 

OWEN. 

Wonder  what's  up  now?  (He  reads  the  telegram.) 
Oh,  it's  from  that  fellow  up  at  Centerville.  He's 
in  hot  water  again.  You'll  have  to  go  up  imme 
diately,  Ken.  (CECILY  goes  out.) 

KENNETH. 

Confound  him !  He's  more  trouble  than  he's  worth. 
I  wish  you'd  take  that  business  away  from  him, 
Owen. 

OWEN  (looking  at  his  watch). 

If  you  hurry  you'll  get  the  nine-thirty. 

KENNETH. 

All  right.  I  wanted  to  take  Polly  to  the  links  to 
day,  too! 

OWEN. 

Well,  run  along!  You've  only  twelve  minutes  to 
catch  that  train. 

[13] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
KENNETH. 

All  right.  (He  stops  in  the  doorway.)  Oh,  by 
Jove,  I  forgot!  Owen,  you'll  be  in  town  to-day, 
won't  you?  Run  into  Bauer's  and  order  the  finest 
bunch  of  roses  you  can  find — five  dozen  of  the  most 
expensive — and  send  them,  with  this  card — (-feels 
in  his  pockets)  what  the  deuce  did  I  do  with  the 
thing?  Oh,  here  it  is! 

OWEN. 
To  Polly? 

KENNETH. 

No ;  to  Marie  Doulton.  There's  the  address  (scrib 
bling  on  the  envelope  in  which  the  card  is  enclosed ) . 
Don't  forget,  on  your  life,  or  you'll  get  me  into  no 
end  of  a  scrape!  (Tosses  envelope  to  OWEN  and 
hurries  to  the  door.) 

OWEN. 

But  I  say,  Ken !     Hold  on !    You  don't  mean 


KENNETH  (watch  in  hand). 

Yes,  I  do !    Never  mind  the  price.    Get  them,  sure ! 
Good-bye.     (Runs  off .) 

OWEN  (in  doorway). 
But,  Ken,  hold  on ! 

[14] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
KENNETH  (outside). 

That's  all  right.  I'll  miss  that  train !  (  OWEN  turns 
the  envelope  over  in  his  hands,  shaking  his  head 
dubiously. ) 

Enter  CECILY,  POLLY,  and  BESS  from  the  library. 

CECILY. 

Gordon's  waiting  for  you  to  go  to  the  links,  Owen. 

OWEN  (shortly). 
Can't.     I'm  going  to  town. 

CECILY. 

To  town?  I  thought  you  and  Ken  were  going  to 
stay  over  all  day  to-day. 

OWEN. 

We  were,  but  Ken's  been  called  to  Centerville,  and 
I've  got  to  go  to  town  to  attend  to — some  business. 
(He  looks  distastefully  at  the  envelope  in  his 
hand. ) 

CECILY. 

Well,  go  and  tell  Gordon,  then.  He's  waiting. 
(OWEN  goes  out.) 

(CECILY,    POLLY    and    BESS    dispose    themselves 

comfortably  in  easy-chairs. ) 

[15] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

CECILY  (to  Polly). 

Well,  why  you  insist,  all  at  once,  upon  going  home, 
I  don't  see! 

BESS. 
Nor  I.     Isn't  your  bed  good? 

CECILY. 

Isn't  the  weather  perfect? 

BESS. 

Aren't  we  agreeable? 

CECILY. 

And  the  men  attentive?     Ken's  your  shadow,  and 
I'm  sure,  Owen  fairly  dotes  upon  you ! 

POLLY. 

You  don't  seem  to  object. 

CECILY. 

Well,  mercifully,  I'm  not  jealous — of  my  friends. 

POLLY  (curiously). 
Are  you  jealous  of  anybody? 

CECILY. 

No.     That  is — why,  no,  of  course  not!     Jealousy 
[16] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

and  vulgarity  are  synonymous  terms.  I  trust 
neither  applies  to  me. 

POLLY. 

I'm  so  glad  you  feel  that  way,  dear !  It's  so — com 
mon — to  be  jealous!  Besides,  I  can't  imagine  a 
girl  marrying  a  man  unless  she  could  trust  him  ab 
solutely,  in  the  face  of  everything,  can  you? 

BESS  (in  laughing  accusation). 
Polly,  you're  in  love ! 

POLLY  (much  confused). 
Why,  Bess,  what  nonsense ! 

CECILY  (complacently). 

Well,  of  course,  I  never   cared  for  anybody  but 

Owen 

BESS  (groaning). 

"The  only  man  I  ever  loved !" 

CECILY  (indignantly). 

Well,  he  is !  And  nothing  could  ever  make  me  the 
least  little  speck  jealous  of  Owen.  He  honestly  be 
lieves  that  I'm  the  only  perfect  woman  in  the  world. 
You  know,  girls,  it  sometimes  frightens  me  to  think 
[17] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

what  might  happen  if  he  should  discover,  some  day, 
that  I'm  only  an  ordinary  sort  of  woman,  after  all. 

POLLY  (gravely  nodding). 

I  know.  One  wonders  how  long  one  can  live  up 
to  it. 

BESS   (mischievously). 

You  know,  /  wonder  if  it  isn't  better  not  to  marry 
at  all,  than  to  live  in  constant  dread  of  falling  off 
one's  pedestal. 

CECILY. 
Oh,  my,  no ! 

POLLY. 
Oh,  no,  Bess ! 

CECILY. 
It  deprives  one  of  so  much,  not  to  marry. 

POLLY  (impulsively). 
Girls (She  stops  as  suddenly  as  she  began.) 

CECILY. 

Well? 

POLLY. 
Oh,  nothing. 

BESS. 

Go  on,  Polly.    It  ruins  the  nerves  to  be  excited  that 
way,  and  then  held  in  suspense. 
[18] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

POLLY. 

No,  I — it's  nothing.     I  thought  I'd  say  something 
— but  I  changed  my  mind. 

CECILY. 

I  hope  you  were  going  to  say  that  you've  decided 
not  to  go  home.    Polly,  why  don't  you  stay? 

POLLY. 

Oh,  I  can't !    There's  so  much  to  do ! 

BESS. 

To  do!    What  on  earth  have  you  to  do?    If  ever 
there  was  a  lily  of  the  field,  it's  Polly  Winslow ! 

POLLY. 

Oh,  there's  sewing,  you  know,  and 


CECILY. 

Sewing !     You? 

BESS. 
My  prophetic  soul !    I  knew  it ! 

POLLY  (half  defiantly). 
What? 

BESS. 

It's  a  trousseau!     You've  been  going  and  getting 
engaged ! 

[19] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

CECILY. 

Polly !    Have  you  ? 

POLLY. 

Y-y-yes,  but (CECILY  embraces  her  raptur 
ously;  BESS  more  calmly.) 

CECILY. 

When,  Polly?    When? 

POLLY. 

Last  night — in  the  garden.  But  how  did  you 
know,  Bess? 

BESS   (mysteriously). 

I  have  missed  my  vocation.  I  should  have  been  a 
detective — or  a  clairvoyant.  The  past  explained 
and  the  future  revealed  from  a  single  hair  of  your 
head! 

POLLY. 
Yes,  but  Bess ! 

BESS. 

There  are  no  secrets  I  cannot  penetrate,  no  myste 
ries  I  cannot  solve !    In  addition  to  keen  perceptive 
faculties  and  unfailing  deductive  ability,  I  am  the 
possessor  of  occult  powers  of  a  high  order ! 
[20] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
POLLY. 

No,  but  really,  how  did  you  know?  We  thought 
we  had  been  so  careful ! 

BESS  (suddenly  matter-of-fact). 

When  a  young  person  of  your  tastes,  disposition, 
and  general  friskiness  begins  suddenly  to  talk 
down  to  her  elders  on  the  subjects  of  connubial  con 
fidence,  the  ideals  of  marriage,  a  life  of  unselfish 
surrender  and  kindred  topics,  it  is  safe  to  assume, 
without  further  evidence,  that  she  is  bending  her 
neck  to  the  yoke.  And  when,  in  addition  to  that, 
a  crabbed  and  middle-aged  spinster  happens  to  be 
sitting  quietly  in  the  dark  end  of  the  veranda  when 
the  contracting  parties  are  approaching  the  criti 
cal  moment,  and  sees 

POLLY  (breathlessly). 
Bess,  you  weren't !     You  didn't ! 

BESS. 

Well,  at  any  rate,  I  didn't  talk  about  it.  I  couldn't 
escape,  but  I  shut  my  eyes  and  put  my  fingers  in 
my  ears. 

POLLY. 

Did  you,  Bess?    Did  you,  really ? 
[21] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
BESS. 

Indeed,  I  did !  I  should  hate  to  feel  myself  an  ac 
cessory  before  the  fact !  So  I  stopped  my  ears,  shut 
my  eyes,  and  held  my  tongue. 

POLLY  (embracing  her). 

Oh,  you  dear!  (As  an  afterthought.)  Oh,  Bess! 
You  were  alone,  weren't  you?  Mr.  McAllister 
wasn't  with  you? 

BESS  (turning  away). 

Wasn't  I  silent?  You  didn't  hear  any  conversa 
tion,  did  you? 

POLLY. 

Oh,  of  course,  if  he'd  been  there,  you'd  have  been 
talking !  Besides,  you're  not  the  sort  of  girl  to  sit 
in  dark  corners  with  men,  anyway. 

CECILY  (laughing). 

No,  for  when  she  does,  they  always  propose  to  her. 
She's  grown  wary. 

BESS   (annoyed). 
Don't  be  silly,  Cecily ! 

Enter  OWEN. 
[22] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Oh,  Owen,  what  do  you  think?  Polly  and  Ken  are 
engaged ! 

OWEN. 

What?  Good!  By  Jove,  that's —  (Looks  sud 
denly  blank.)  By  Jove! 

CECILY,  BESS,  POLLY. 

What's  the  matter? 

OWEN  (troubled). 

Oh — er — nothing.  I  just  happened  to  remember 
something.  (Furtively  takes  card  envelope  from 
his  pocket  and  glances  at  it.) 

CECILY. 

Well? 

OWEN. 

Oh,  never  mind  now. 

CECILY  (impatiently). 
Well,  why  don't  you  say  you're  glad? 

OWEN. 

Eh? 

CECILY  (laughing). 

About  Polly  and  Ken,  stupid ! 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

OWEN. 

Oh,  yes,  of  course,  I — I'm  delighted,  you  know. 

POLLY  (pouting). 
Well,  you  don't  look  it ! 

OWEN  (making  an  effort  to  smile). 
Oh,  yes,  I  do.    I — I  don't  feel  just  right  this  morn 
ing.    I  want  to  see  you  a  moment,  Cecily. 

CECILY. 

Are  you  ill,  dear? 

OWEN. 

Oh,  no,  I'm  all  right,  but —  When  did  this  hap 
pen,  Polly? 

POLLY  (wonderingly). 
Last  night. 

OWEN. 

Last  night!  Oh,  yes;  I  just  wondered.  Ready, 
Cecily?  (OWEN  and  CECILY  go  out.) 

POLLY. 

Well,  what  has  happened  to  him?  Last  week  he 
told  me  that  if  I  refused  Ken,  he'd  never  forgive 
me — and  now  look  at  him ! 

BESS  (lightly). 

My  dear,  apparently  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  the 
[24] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

surest  way  to  earn  a  man's  disapproval  is  to  give 
him  what  he  wants. 

POLLY  (laughing). 

You  miserable  old  cynic !  Here  comes  Mr.  McAl 
lister.  Pm  going  to  write  letters. 

BESS  (hurriedly). 
Oh,  no,  Polly,  don't !     Stay  here  with  me ! 

POLLY. 

Not  I !  I  believe  that  man's  in  love  with  you,  and 
I'm  no  fifth  wheel!  (She  runs  into  library,  laugh 
ing.) 

Enter  GORDON  from  veranda. 

GORDON  (looking  after  Polly). 
Have  our  young  friends  confessed?     Or  are  they 
still  lingering  over  the  taste  of  stolen  waters? 

BESS  (prosaically). 

They've  announced  their  engagement,  if  that's 
what  you  mean. 

GORDON  (sighing  with  exaggerated  relief). 
A-ah !     I'm  glad  to  hear  it !     I  felt  like  an  accom 
plice. 

[25] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
BESS. 

They  have  no  idea  that  you  were  there,  and,  of 
course  (anxiously),  you'll  not  mention  it? 

GORDON. 

I'm  obedient — but  it  is  a  temptation!  (Coax- 
ingly.)  Just  a  suggestion,  you  know. 

BESS  (indignantly). 
You  didn't  listen ! 

GORDON. 

After  you  had  commanded  me  to  stop  my  ears? 
Certainly  not! 

BESS  (cynically). 

If  one  were  uncharitable,  one  might  infer  that  it's 
just  as  well  that  I  was  there  to  insist  upon  the 
observance  of  the — decencies. 

GORDON  (reflectively). 

Well,  it's  always  interesting  to  know  how  another 
man  does  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know. 

BESS. 

Yes,  if  one  prides  one's  self  upon  the  variety  of 
methods  at  one's  disposal. 

[26] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
GORDON   (whimsically). 

I  have  often  reflected  upon  the  mistake  in  the  order 
of  things.  Now,  why  should  a  woman,  who  never 
needs  to  take  the  initiative  in  matters  of  that  sort, 
have  the  sole  opportunity  of  hearing  and  judging 
of  a  variety  of  proposals  of  marriage?  She  gains 
a  lot  of  knowledge  and  experience  that  she  can 
never  use,  while  a  man,  awkward  at  best,  never 
hears  any  proposals  but  those  he  makes  himself. 
He,  therefore,  is  forced  to  depend  upon  his  own 
inadequate  tact  and  limited  understanding  of  the 
possibilities  of  the  subject,  at  a  moment  when  he 
needs  all  the  wisdom  of  the  sages,  the  perception 
of  the  seers,  and  the  charm  of  the  sirens  to  aid 
him! 

BESS. 

Which  explains  in  part,  I  suppose,  the  fact  that 
some  men  are  widely  known  as  having  proposed 
to  every  woman  who  would  listen  to  them? 

GORDON. 

Miss  Maynard,  would  you — I  mean,  do  you — that 
is,  is  a  woman  going  to  be  hard  on  a  fellow  just 
because  he's  amused  a  few  girls  and  done  his  best 
to  live  up  to  their  expectations? 
[27] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

BESS. 

Mr.  McAllister! 

GORDON. 

Yes,  I  know,  but — now,  I'm  in  dead  earnest !  You 
know  there  are  girls  who — well,  who  like  to  amuse 
themselves  and  be  amused.  You're  not  one  of  them 
— you  never  were  one  of  them  (BESS  conceals  a 
smile).,  but — is  it  going  against  a  man  that  he's 
done  his  best  to  furnish  amusement  for  them? 

BESS  (with  mock  gravity). 

Is  the  subject  one  that  impresses  you  as  suitable 
material  for — amusement  ? 

GORDON. 

No — no,  of  course,  not  to  a  woman  of  your  sort! 
But  you  see,  Miss  Maynard,  there  are  so  blessed 
few  women  like  you !  I  never  knew  another !  I — 
I  wish  you'd  answer  me?  Would  you  be  hard  on 
a  fellow  under  those  circumstances? 

BESS. 

I  hope  I  should  never  be  hard,  as  you  call  it,  on 
any  one,  Mr.  McAllister,  but  I  should  hesitate  a 
long  time  before  I  considered  seriously  anything 
that  might  be  said  to  me  by  a  man  who  had  formed 
the  proposal  habit.  There's  Polly  on  the  veranda. 
[28] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

Shall  we  join  her?  (She  goes  quickly  off.  GOR 
DON  looks  after  her,  groans,  despondently  shakes 
his  head,  and  follows  slowly.) 

CECILY  and  OWEN  enter  -from  the  library,  both 
looking  troubled.  She  carries  the  card  envel 
ope. 

CECILY. 

And  he  made  no  explanation  at  all? 

OWEN. 

None  whatever.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  there's  much 
to  be  said,  is  there  ?  The  fact  remains  that  he  made 
a  blooming  young  idiot  of  himself  over  Marie 
Doulton  for  two  solid  years,  and  beggared  himself 
sending  her  flowers  and  fruit  and  candy — the  only 
reason  it  wasn't  diamonds  and  rubies  was  that  she 
wouldn't  accept  them — and  now  that  she's  come 
back,  within  twenty-four  hours  of  her  arrival  he 
begins  it  again,  although  he's  just  become  engaged 
to  one  of  the  most  charming  girls  on  earth.  There 
isn't  much  to  be  said  in  explanation  of  that,  is 
there  ? 

CECILY  (miserably). 

No,  I  suppose  not.    But,  oh,  poor  Polly !    Poor  lit 
tle  Polly!    You'll  send  them,  Owen? 
[29] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

OWEN  (grimly). 
Oh,  yes,  I'll  send  them ! 

CECILY. 

I  wonder —    Did  he  write  on  the  card  ? 

OWEN. 
I  don't  know. 

CECILY. 

I  suppose  it  wouldn't  do  to  look? 

OWEN. 

Cecily ! 

CECILY  (hurriedly). 

Oh,  no,  I  wouldn't  do  it,  dear!  Only  (tearfully) 
I'm  thinking  about  Polly  !  Poor,  poor  little  Polly ! 
And  she's  going  home  to  make  her  trousseau ! 

OWEN. 

Well,  don't  say  anything  about  this  to  any  one,  for 
the  present,  Cecily.  Wre'll  give  Ken  a  chance  to 
say  whatever  he  has  to  say  before  we  mention  it. 
Young  rascal!  I'd  like  to  thump  him!  (Looks  at 
his  watch.)  Good-bye. 

CECILY  (going  to  the  hall  with  him). 
Good-bye,  dear.     (She  disappears  in  the  hall  for  a 
moment,  and  re-enters  at  once.) 
[30] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

ICON  enters  from  the  veranda. 

GORDON  (dejectedly). 

Hello,  Cecily.  Say,  Cecily,  you've  always  been  a 
good  friend  of  mine.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  years 
ago  that  I  was  making  a  donkey  of  myself,  and 
shut  me  off? 

CECILY  (puzzled). 
Eh? 

GORDON. 

Why  did  you  let  me  go  on  making  love  to  every 
pretty  little  idiot  I  met?  Didn't  I  deserve  better 
at  your  hands  than  that?  What  did  I  ever  do 
to  you? 

CECILY  (demurely). 
Well,  you  proposed  to  me  three  times. 

GORDON. 

I  know;  just  so  you'd  know  when  not  to  believe 
a  fellow.  You  knew  I  didn't  mean  it,  and  I  knew 
you  knew  it;  and  maybe  I  saved  you  a  heartache 
some  time.  Maybe  you'd  have  believed  some  other 
fool  if  I  hadn't  trained  you,  instead  of  keeping 
your  heart  all  sweet  and  sound  for  Owen. 

CECILY. 

Well,  then,  maybe  that's  the  reason  I  didn't  "shut 
[31] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATUI 

you  off,"  as  you  say.  Perhaps  you've  bit.';  pub 
lic  benefactor  all  these  years,  Gordon. 

GORDON. 

Hang  the  public !  What  do  I  care  about  the  pub 
lic?  When  I  finally  meet  a  woman  whom — whom 
I  do — well,  whom  I  do  love!  There! — and  want 
to  marry  her,  she's  heard  all  these  stories  of  my 
idiotic  past,  and  imagines  my  heart's  a  worm-eaten 
old  nut,  not  even  worth  the  cracking! 

CECILY. 

Merciful  powers!     Is  it  Bess? 

GORDON   (savagely). 

Is  it  Bess?  Of  course  it's  Bess!  (Cecily  laughs.) 
Who  else  could  it  be?  And  I  don't  see  anything 
to  laugh  at,  either!  I  tell  you,  Cecily,  I'm  in 
dead  earnest  about  this ! 

CECILY  (laughing). 
Oh,  Gordon,  to  think  of  it !    After  all  these  years ! 

GORDON. 

I  suppose  you  thought  I  was  going  on  making  a 
buffoon  of  myself  for  ever,  did  you?  I  suppose 
you  thought  I  hadn't  any  heart,  did  you?  I  sup 
pose  you  thought — oh,  thunder!  What  do  I  care 
[32] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

what  you  thought !  I  want  to  know  what  I'm 
going  to  do ! 

CECILY  (wiping  tears  of  laughter  from  her  eyes). 
Have  you  proposed  to  her? 

GORDON  (sulUly). 
No. 

CECILY  (wonderingly). 
Well,  why  don't  you? 

GORDON. 

Don't  know  how.  Don't  know  what  to  say. 
(CECILY  shrieks  with  laughter.)  Well,  I  don't! 

CECILY. 

And  you  have  been  celebrated,  ever  since  I  can 
remember,  as  making  the  most  artistic  proposals 
of  any  man  in  the  whole  country-side ! 

GORDON. 

I  know  that.  But  I  want  to  make  one  now  that 
somebody '11  believe.  You  never  believed  'em. 
Nobody  ever  believed  'em.  Besides,  I  don't  want 
to  make  an  "artistic  proposal" !  She'd  laugh  at 
me  and  tell  me  I  had  acquired  the  "proposal 
habit"! 

[33] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

CECILY. 

Well,  so  you  have. 

GORDON. 

I  deny  it !  If  I  had,  I'd  know  what  to  say  to  her. 
Say,  Cecily,  what  did  Owen  say  to  you? 

CECILY  (trying  somewhat  unsuccessfully  to  sub 
due  her  laughter). 

He  said — let  me  see !  Why,  I  don't  remember.  I 
don't  think  he  said  much  of  anything.  I  guess 
it  was  more  what  he  did. 

GORDON. 

Well,  what  did  he  do? 

CECILY. 

Gordon ! 

GORDON. 

I  know;  but  I've  helped  you  out  of  many  a  tight 
place,  Cecily — and  you  were  never  as  badly  caught 
as  I  am.  If  you  love  me,  if  you  love — her,  if  you 
love  Owen,  or — or  anybody,  give  me  a  lift ! 

CECILY  (trying  to  speak  gravely). 
Well,  I  will,  Gordon.     Truly,  I  will ;  but  not  now. 
I've  got  something  else  to  do  now.     But  I'll  think 
about  it. 

[34] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 

Well,  hurry  up!  And  say,  Cecily — don't  tell 
Owen!  (CECILY  laughs  again.)  I  know  (ruefully)  ; 
I  suppose  it  is  funny.  But  wait  a  bit,  won't  you? 

CECILY. 

Yes,  I  promise.  I  won't  tell.  Oh  (suddenly 
grave) ,  here  come  Polly  and  Bess  now. 

Enter  BESS,  in  street  dress,  followed  by  POLLY. 

BESS. 

I'm  off  for  town,  Cecily.  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you? 

CECILY. 

I  didn't  know  you  were  going. 

BESS. 

I'm  going  to  see  Marie  Doulton. 

CECILY  (coldly). 
Oh! 

POLLY. 

Tell  her  we're  all  coming  to  see  her  play  to-morrow 
night. 

BESS. 

Yes,  I   will.      Good-bye.      (Exit  BESS.      GORDON 
[35] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

looks  after  her  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  dogged 
deliberation,  follows  her.) 

POLLY. 

Oh,  I  can  hardly  wait  to  see  her!     You  never  saw 
her,  did  you? 

CECILY. 

No,  and  I  don't  want  to. 

POLLY. 

Why  not? 

CECILY. 

Oh — because. 

POLLY  (lightly). 
Woman's  reason.     Because  what? 

CECILY. 

I  don't  like  her. 

POLLY  (laughing). 
Cecily,  I  believe  you  are  jealous! 

CECILY. 

Jealous!     Of  what? 

POLLY. 

Because  Owen  was  in  love  with  her  once. 
[36] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Owen  in  love  with  her! 

POLLY. 

Why,  yes!  Mercy!  Didn't  you  know  it?  Bess 
told  me. 

CECILY. 

Bess  told  you  that  Owen  was  in  love  with  Marie 
Doulton  ? 

POLLY. 

Oh,  I'm  sorry  I  told,  if  you  didn't  know  it,  Ce 
cily!  I  thought  Owen  told  you  everything. 

CECILY. 

He  does.    What  did  she  say  ? 

POLLY. 

Oh,  don't  let's  talk  about  it ! 

CECILY. 

What  did  she  say? 

POLLY  (miserably). 

She  said  that  for  some  time — ever  so  long  ago,  you 
know — Owen  was  simply  infatuated  with  Marie 
Doulton,  and  that  he  sent  her  flowers  and  fruit 

and  candy 

[37] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

CECILY  (relieved). 

Oh,  no,  that  was  Ken ! 

POLLY. 
Ken! 

CECILY. 

Oh,  good  heavens!  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you  just 
yet,  dear,  but  you'd  have  to  know  it  within  a  few 
hours  anyway,  so  it  doesn't  make  very  much  dif 
ference. 

POLLY. 

Have  to  know  what? 

CECILY. 

About  Ken. 

POLLY. 
What  about  Ken? 

CECILY. 

Why,  you  see,  Ken  was  very  much  in  love  with 
Marie  Doulton  a  few  years  ago,  and  nearly  beg 
gared  himself  sending  her  things 

POLLY. 

No,  that  was  Owen! 

CECILY. 

Wait,  dear!     But  everybody  thought  that  was  all 

over.    I  don't  think  he  has  seen  her  since  she  went 

[38] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

on  the  stage — (doubtfully)  I  don't  think  he  has 
— and  he  was  quite  a  boy  when  all  this  happened. 
So  when  he  fell  in  love  with  you,  we  were  all  per 
fectly  delighted.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  have  known ! 

POLLY. 

Known  what?    Cecily,  what  are  you  talking  about? 

CECILY. 

This  morning  just  before  we  told  Owen  of  your 
engagement,  he  found  out  that  Ken  was  sending 
flowers  to  Marie  Doulton. 

POLLY. 

Cecily ! 

CECILY. 

Oh,  poor  Polly !  I'm  so  sorry !  I — I  wish  it 
weren't  true,  but  it  is,  and  you  must  try  to  be 
brave  about  it,  dear !  He  sent  her  five  dozen  roses. 

POLLY. 

I  don't  believe  it! 

CECILY. 

Yes,  dear,  it's  true.  He  told  Owen  to  order  them 
for  him  at  Bauer's. 

POLLY. 

And  was  that  the  reason 

[39] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
CECILY. 

That  Owen  didn't  seem  glad  about  the  engage 
ment?  Yes.  that's  the  reason. 

POLLY  (piteously). 

Oh,  there's  some  mistake!  It  couldn't  be  Ken! 
Why,  Bess  said  it  was  Owen  who  was  so  much  in 
love  with  her!  She  said  he  told  her  all  about  it, 
because  she  was  such  a  friend  of  Miss  Doulton's. 

CECILY. 
Owen  told  Bess? 

POLLY. 

Yes.  Oh,  you  won't  mind,  Cecily!  You  mustn't 
mind  now,  because  he  loves  you  now !  But  it  must 
have  been  Owen ! 

CECILY. 

Well,  it  isn't  Owen  who's  sending  her  five  dozen 
roses  to-day,  anyway.  It's  Ken,  for  I  saw  the 
envelope  that  was  to  go  with  them,  addressed  in 
his  writing.  But — Polly,  do  you  suppose  Owen 
was  in  love  with  her? 

POLLY  (in  breaking  tones). 

Oh,  Cecily !     Oh,  Cecily,  I  want  to  go  home !     I 

want  to  go  home!     (She  drops  into  a  chair,  sob- 

[40] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

bing  piteously.  CECILY,  with  quivering  lips, 
watches  her  for  a  moment,  and  then,  kneeling  be 
side  her,  gathers  POLLY  into  her  arms,  and  they 
weep  together.) 

CURTAIN. 


[41] 


PART    II 

Evening 

The  scene  is  the  same. 

Enter  CECILY  from  the  library,  dressed  for  dinner. 
She  takes  up  OWEN'S  photograph,  studies  it, 
wipes  away  a  tear  and  sighs.  POLLY,  also 
dressed  for  dinner,  comes  in  from  the  hall  and 
looks  over  CECILY'S  shoulder. 

CECILY  (mournfully). 
He  doesn't  look  as  if  he'd  deceive  his  wife,  does  he? 

POLLY. 

No,  but  one  can't  tell.  I — I'd  have  trusted  Ken 
anywhere!  In  the  face  of  anything!  (Sobs.) 

CECILY  (tremulously). 

Now,  Polly,  don't  give  way  again.  You  must  be 
brave,  you  know,  and  whatever  you  do,  don't  let 
him  see  that  it  hurts !  It — it's  easier  for  you  than 
it  is  for  me,  you  see,  for  you — you  haven't  been 
married  (swallowing  a  sob)  ;  and — and  Pm  not 
giving  way ! 

POLLY. 

No,  but  Owen  hasn't  been  sending  her  flowers!     I 
[42] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

don't  see  why  you  care  so  much.  I  wouldn't  care 
how  many  girls  Ken  had  been  in  love  with,  if  I 
were  sure  that  he  loved  me  better  than  any  of  them 
now.  But  to  have  him  sending  her  flowers — such 
flowers,  too ! — the  very  day  after  he  told  me  that 
—that (Sobs.) 

CECILY. 

But  Owen  has  told  me  ever  so  many  times  that 
I  was  the  only  woman  he  ever  really  loved!  Of 
course,  I  knew  he  had  had  his  little  flirtations,  like 
other  fellows,  but  I  never  supposed  they  were — 
like  that ! 

POLLY. 

Now,  Cecily,  don't  give  up !  Don't !  After  all  the 
trouble  we  took  to  cover  up  the  traces,  we  mustn't 
cry  any  more!  We  might  just  as  well  laugh!  It 
won't  do  any  good  to  cry.  Let's  laugh!  (She 
laughs  sobbingly,  and  wipes  her  eyes.)  Has  Bess 
come  home  yet? 

CECILY. 

Yes ;  I  think  she's  asleep,  though.  I  rapped  on  her 
door,  and  she  didn't  answer.  I  wish  she'd  come 
down. 

POLLY. 

But  you  won't  try  to  talk  about  this  now,  will  you? 

You   mustn't,   for  you'd   cry,  and   you  know  we 

agreed  that  we'd  go  through  dinner  just  as  usual. 

[43] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

CECILY. 

Oh,  yes,   just  as   usual!     We'll  show   them   that 
other  people  can  feel  one  thing  and  act  another. 

Enter  BESS,  in  dinner  dress,  looking  troubled. 

CECILY. 

Oh,  Bess,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come ! 
BESS    (taking   CECILY'S   hand   sympathetically). 
You  dear  girl !    You  look  tired,  Cecily. 

CECILY. 

Oh,  I've  such  a  headache ! 

POLLY. 

So've  I ! 

BESS  (sighing). 
So've  I ! 

CECILY. 

Did  you  have  a  pleasant  day? 

BESS. 

No ;  horrid ! 

CECILY. 
So  did  I ! 

POLLY. 
So  did  I ! 

CECILY. 

Did  you  see — Miss  Doulton? 
[44] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

BESS. 

Yes I  don't  think  the  stage  has  improved 

her  any. 

CECILY. 

Don't  you?     Why? 

BESS. 

No,  I  don't!  She's  grown  so — careless!  There 
was  a  time  when  she  wouldn't  accept  even  flowers 
— awfully  expensive  ones,  you  know — from — well, 
from  men  who  had  no  business  to  send  them ! 

POLLY  (stifling  a  sob). 
From  engaged  men. 

BESS  (glancing  hastily  at  CECILY). 
Yes,  or — from  married  men. 

CECILY  (impulsively). 
Bess,  is  it  true  that  Owen  was  in  love  with  her? 

BESS  (reproachfully). 
Polly ! 

POLLY  (hurriedly). 

I  thought  she  knew  about  it,  Bess,  or  I  wouldn't 
have  told  her. 

CECILY. 
Is  it  true? 

[451 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

BESS   (reluctantly). 
Well — he  was  rather  attentive  to  her  for  a  time. 

CECILY. 

And  is  it  true  that  he  sent  her  things  all  the  time 
- — flowers  and  candy  and  all  that — and — and  just 
dangled  after  her? 

BESS  (impulsively). 
Yes,  he  did!    It  is  true! 

POLLY  (eagerly). 
Then  it  was  Owen,  after  all,  and  not  Ken? 

BESS. 

No,  it  was — both  of  them. 

CECILY. 

Both  of  them ! 

POLLY. 
Both  of  them! 

BESS. 

Yes,  both  of  them.  For  a  long  time  they  were 
rivals,  and — why,  don't  you  remember,  Cecily, 
that  for  several  months  Owen  and  Ken  were  hardly 
on  speaking  terms?  It  was  only  after  Owen  be 
came  engaged  to  you  that  Ken  really  forgave  him. 
[46] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
CECILY. 

And  was  that  the  reason? 

BESS. 

That  was  the  reason.  They  were  both  in  love  with 
her. 

CECILY. 

And  he  never  told  me!  He  said  I  was  the  only 
woman  he  had  ever  loved! 

BESS  (bitterly). 

Well,  that  should  have  been  enough!  Any  man 
who  will  say  that  to  a  woman,  expecting  her  to  be 
lieve  it,  is  a  confirmed  flirt ! 

POLLY  (dolefully). 

Yes,  that's  true!  Ken  told  me  that  he  had  liked 
lots  of  girls,  but  that  he  had  never  cared  deeply 
for  one  before,  and — he  was  in  love  with  her,  too! 
And  I'd  have  trusted  Ken  anywhere ! 

BESS. 

Oh,  but  Ken  was  only  a  boy!     His  devotion  to 
her  was  rather  funny — and  really  very  pretty,  too. 
It  was  intense  while  it  lasted,  but  she's  several  years 
his  senior,  you  know,  so  it  wasn't  very  serious. 
[47] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
POLLY. 

Oh,   but   it   was!     And   it  is   yet!      He — he 

(She  bursts  into  tears.) 

BESS. 

Why,  Polly! 

CECILY. 

You  see,  Polly  has  just  learned  that  Ken  sent 
Marie  Doulton  a  magnificent  bunch  of  roses  this 
morning. 

BESS. 
What?     Ken! 

POLLY  (hysterically). 
Yes,  Ken! 

CECILY. 

He  asked  Owen  to  order  them  for  him,  because  he 
had  to  go  to  Centerville. 

BESS. 

Roses !     You're  sure  it  wasn't  orchids  ? 

CECILY. 

No,  it  was  roses.  Five  dozen  of  the  most  expen 
sive,  he  said. 

BESS  (dropping  into  a  chair). 

For  heaven's  sake ! 

[48] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

And  Owen  told  me  about  it.     He  was  very  angry. 

BESS  (drily). 
Oh,  was  he. 

CECILY. 

Why,  of  course  he  was !  Owen  hates  anything  like 
that,  you  know. 

BESS  (same  tone). 
Yes,  I  know. 

CECILY. 

And  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  Polly,  but  it  slipped 
out,  and — she  had  to  know  it  sooner  or  later,  so 
it  doesn't  make  much  difference. 

POLLY. 

And  Cecily  and  I  have  been  crying  all  day 


CECILY. 

Until  we  looked  perfect  frights 

POLLY. 

And  then  we  bathed  our  eyes  and  dressed 

CECILY. 

Because  we  don't  want  them  to  suspect  that  we 
know  until  after  dinner. 

[49] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

POLLY. 

We  want  to  show  them  that  we  can  be  calm  and 
dignified,  even  in  the  face  of  insult. 

CECILY. 

So  we're  going  through  the  dinner  just  as  if  noth 
ing  had  happened 

POLLY  (tremulously). 

We're  going  to  be  just  as  self-possessed  as  possi 
ble 


CECILY  (with  a  responsive  tremor). 

Y-y-yes,  we're  not  going  to  sh-sh-shed  a  tear- 
(She  fumbles  for  her  handkerchief.) 


POLLY. 

Nor  show  any  emotion 

CECILY. 

Nor — nor  anything!     Where  is  my  handkerchief! 
(Exit  hurriedly,  sobbing.) 

POLLY. 
Oh,  Bess,  isn't  it  awful ! 

BESS. 

It  is  that ! 

[50] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
POLLY. 

Would  you  have  believed  it  of  Ken  ? 

BESS. 

Ken?    Oh,  he's  not  so  bad.    It's  Owen! 

POLLY. 

Owen! 

BESS. 

Yes,  Owen.  Look  here,  Polly,  I  didn't  mean  to 
say  anything  about  it,  but — I  don't  know  what  to 
do.  I  saw  Owen  buying  orchids  for  Miss  Doulton. 

POLLY. 

Orchids ! 

BESS. 

Yes,  a  great  big  box  of  them.  A  pretty  price 
they  must  have  cost  him ! 

POLLY. 

Maybe  they  were  for  Cecily. 

BESS  (scornfully). 

For  Cecily !     Did  you  ever  know  a  man  to  buy  a 
box — so    big    (illustrating) — of    orchids    for    his 
wife?    Besides,  I  saw  them  in  her  room  afterward. 
[51] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

POLLY. 

Did  you  see  the  roses,  too  ?  Ken  never  sent  me  five 
dozen  roses ! 

BESS. 

I  don't  know.  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so !  There  were 
huge  bunches  of  roses  everywhere,  but  nothing 
compared  with  those  orchids. 

POLLY   (in  tears). 

Oh,  Bess!  Oh,  poor  Cecily!  Aren't  men  horrid! 
What  shall  we  do? 

BESS. 

'Sh,  here  she  comes!  Polly!  'Sh!  We  mustn't 
tell  her ! 

POLLY. 
B-b-but  I  think  she  ought  to  know ! 

BESS  (doubtfully). 
Do  you? 

POLLY. 

Yes,  because  if  she  finds  out  about  it  this  time,  it 
may  prevent  his  doing  it  again. 

BESS. 

Well— I  must  think.     Do  hush,  Polly ! 

POLLY  (hysterically). 
Oh,  I  ca-ca-a-a-an't ! 

[52] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

BESS. 

Then  run  away! 

Enter  CECILY  from  the  library,  wearing  a  deter 
mined  smile. 

CECILY. 

Polly!  You  promised  you  wouldn't  cry  any  more! 
Do  go  and  bathe  your  eyes!  (Exit  POLLY,  weep 
ing-  bitterly.  CECILY  continues  resolutely.)  Now, 
I'm  going  to  be  cheerful.  Let  me  see !  I  had  some 
thing  on  my  mind  to  tell  you.  Oh,  yes,  it  was 
Gordon ! 

BESS. 
His  weight  can't  have  oppressed  you  much ! 

CECILY. 

Now,  Bess,  don't  be  hard  on  Gordon  !    He's  a  dear ! 

BESS. 

To  how  many  girls  ? 

CECILY. 

Well,  as  he  says  himself,  he's  been  sort  of  a  public 
benefactor.  He's  prevented  a  lot  of  us  from  throw 
ing  ourselves  away  on  other  fellows. 

BESS. 

Who  wants  to  marry  a  safety-valve? 
[53] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
CECILY. 

But  you  see,  the  difference  is  just  here.  He  never 
cared  a  thing  in  the  world  about  one  of  us,  and 
we  all  knew  it;  but  he's  desperately  in  love  with 
you.  You're  the  only  woman  he  ever  did  love.  He 
told  me  so  himself. 

BESS   (irritably). 

Good  heavens!  It's  bad  enough  to  have  a  man 
say  that  to  one  in  the  privacy  of  a  proposal,  but 
when  he  goes  about  advertising  it  to  one's 

friends ! 

CECILY. 

But  it's  true !  I've  known  Gordon  for  years,  and 
you're  the  only  girl  he  ever  knew  to  whom  he  was 
afraid  to  propose. 

BESS. 

Is  the  man  so  sure  I'd  accept  him? 

CECILY. 

Oh,  Bess,  don't  be  horrid!  Gordon  would  make 
such  a  good  husband ! 

BESS. 

What  am  I  that  a  miracle  should  be  worked  for 
me? 

[54] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
CECILY  (faintly  smiling). 

Do  you  think  it  would  be  so  hard  for  him  to  be  a 
good  husband? 

BESS. 

No  harder  than  for  any  other  man,  I  suppose. 

CECILY. 

Bess,  sometimes  I  think  you're  getting  bitter. 
You  mustn't  do  that !  There  are  some  horrid  men 
in  the  world,  but  there  are  some  splendid  ones,  too ! 
Now,  there's  Owen !  Of  course,  he  isn't  perfect — 
if  he  were,  I  don't  know  what  he'd  do  with  me! — 
and  I'm  impatient  with  him  sometimes,  but — just 
the  same,  Owen  is  such  a  dear,  faithful,  consider 
ate,  unselfish  fellow !  I'd  like  to  see  you  as  happily 
married  as  I  am ! 

BESS  (irrepressible). 

Heaven  forfend! 

CECILY. 

Why,  Bess !  You  like  Owen!  You  know  he's 
good  to  me !  Now,  don't  you?  .  .  .  Bess!  You 
do,  don't  you?  (She  touches  Bess's  shoulder  per 
suasively.  ) 

BESS  (choking  with  tears). 

Don't,  Cecily !    Let  me  go ! 
[55] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

CECILY   (holding  Bess's  arm). 

Bess!  Bess!  What  do  you  mean?  What  is  it? 
Tell  me!  (BESS  shakes  her  head  and  tries  in  vain 
to  pull  away. )  You  shall  tell  me !  What  is  it  ? 

BESS. 

Nothing ! 

Enter  POLLY. 

CECILY. 

It  is!  It's  something  about  Owen!  Isn't  it? 
(Shakes  BESS  a  little.)  Isn't  it?  Do  you  know 
anything  more  about  Owen  that  I  don't  know? 
Don't  you  think  Owen  is  good  to  me?  Bess! 

POLLY. 

Oh,  tell  her,  Bess !  She'll  find  out  some  day,  any 
way,  and  then  we'll  wish  we  had  warned  her  now. 

CECILY. 

Polly!    You  know? 

BESS  (dully). 

Yes,  Polly  knows.  I  saw  Owen  buying  an  immense 
box  of  orchids  at  Bauer's 

CECILY. 

Roses,  you  mean. 

[56] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

BESS. 

No,  I  don't ;  I  mean  orchids.  And  later,  I  saw  the 
same  box  brought  to  Marie  Doulton. 

CECILY. 

Oh — oh,  there's  some  mistake!  He  bought  them 
for  Ken. 

POLLY  (bursting  into  tears  again). 
Ken  ordered  roses !     Oh,  and  I'd  have  trusted  Ken 
through  anything! 

BESS. 

When  Marie  opened  them,  I  said:  "What  mag 
nificent  flowers!"  and  she  laughed  and  replied: 
"Yes  ;  poor  boy  !  He  still  sends  them.'.'  I  said :  "I 
saw  him  buying  them.  Do  you  think  you  have  any 
right  to  accept  them — now?"  and  she  laughed 
again,  in  a  careless  sort  of  way,  and  said:  "Well, 
I've  told  him  not  to  send  them,  but  he  will  do  it ;  and 
what  woman  could  refuse  flowers  like  that?" 

CECILY  (breathlessly). 
Bess! 

BESS. 

And  then  I  came  away.  I — I  couldn't  stay  in  the 
room  with  them ! 

CECILY  (piteously). 
Oh,  Bess! 

[57] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

BESS. 

And  that's  all.  (POLLY  sobs  and  CECILY  stares 
straight  before  her,  as  if  stunned.)  And  I  thank 
heaven  (a  little  wildly)  that  I'm  not  married  to  any 
man!  (Sobs  chokingly.) 

POLLY. 
Bess,  I  believe  you  care  for  some  one,  too! 

BESS  (hurriedly). 

No,  no,  no!  Not  in  the  least!  You  understand, 
Polly  ?  Not  in  the  least !  (  CECILY  blindly  extends 
her  hand  to  BESS,  who  holds  it  tightly.  POLLY 
sobs  disconsolately.) 

Enter  GORDON,  from  the  veranda.  The  girls  all 
spring  to  their  feet  and  turn  their  faces  away 
from  him. 

GORDON  (cheerfully). 

Ah,  I  thought  I  heard  voices!  Why  don't  you 
come  out  on  the  veranda?  It's  fine !  Well,  I've  got 
the  seats  for  to-morrow  night.  We'll  have  a  great 
time,  eh?  (Looks  from  one  to  another.)  Why 
doesn't  somebody  say  something  ?  Overcome  at  the 
prospect  of  seeing  the  great  beauty,  Cecily? 

CECILY. 

I — I  shall  not  see  her.     I'm  not  going. 

(Exit  hurriedly.) 
[58] 


MISS  DOULTON'S  ORCHIDS 
GORDON. 

Not  going!  Not  going  to  see  Marie  Doulton? 
What's  up?  You  wouldn't  miss  it,  Miss  Winslow? 

POLLY. 

Nothing  on  earth  would  tempt  me  to  go ! 

(Exit  hurriedly.) 
GORDON. 

Eh?  Oh,  I  say!  Why,  see  here,  Miss  Maynard, 
what  does  this  mean?  It's  a  joke,  isn't  it?  They 
don't  mean  it  seriously? 

BESS. 

They  mean  it  very  seriously. 

GORDON. 

And  you ? 

BESS. 

I  mean  it  also. 

GORDON. 

By  Jove!    What's  up? 

BESS. 

We  shall  leave  the  contemplation  of  Miss  Doulton's 
charms  to  the  men  of  the  household. 

GORDON. 

Why,  I  thought  she  was  a  friend  of  yours ! 
[59] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

BESS. 

She  was — until  to-day. 

GORDON. 

Oh,  I  see !  You — er — disagreed,  and  the  girls  are 
resenting  it  with  you.  Sort  of  a  sympathetic 
strike. 

BESS. 

On  the  contrary,  I  am  only  a  sympathiser — but  my 
sympathies  are  active ! 

GORDON. 

I'm  glad  to  hear  that,  for  I'm  in  need  of  them.  I 
— I — oh,  Bess,  I  can't  lead  up  to  it,  but  you  must 
see  how  it  is  with  me ! 

BESS. 

Oh,  don't!     (Covers  her  face  with  her  hands.) 

GORDON. 

I  know.  You  think  I'm  a  sublime  fraud  and  not  to 
be  trusted 

BESS  (wearily,  lifting  her  head). 
Perhaps  you're  as  much  to  be  trusted  as  any  man. 

GORDON  (hopefully). 
Bess! 

[60] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 
BESS. 

But  there's  not  a  man  on  earth  I'd  trust  to  the  ex 
tent  of  marrying  him.  Not  one ! 

GORDON  (falling  back). 
Bess! 

BESS. 

To  you,  we  are  all  toys,  kept  for  an  otherwise  idle 
hour.  Your  code  is  not  our  code ;  your  ideals  are 
not  our  ideals ;  your  honour — thank  heaven ! — is 
not  our  honour. 

GORDON  (simply). 
I  don't  think  I  understand. 

BESS  (bitterly). 

Perhaps  your  friends,  Mr.  Belknap  and  Mr.  Moore, 
will  explain. 

GORDON. 

I  may  have  been  unfortunate  enough  to  have  of 
fended  you  (BESS  shakes  her  head),  or  some  other 
man,  of  whom  I  know  nothing,  may  have  destroyed 
your  faith  in  him,  but  it  is  not  just — nor  is  it  like 
you — to  condemn  the  innocent  with  the  guilty. 
Some  of  us — most  of  us,  perhaps — are  not  all  that 
we  might  be,  but  Owen  Belknap  and  Kenneth  Moore 
are  two  as  straight  fellows  as  the  Lord  ever  made ! 
[61] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

BESS. 

Which  completes  the  circle  and  brings  us  back  to 
the  starting-point. 

GORDON. 

Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  would  not  trust 
Owen  ? 

BESS. 
I  do. 

GORDON. 
Nor  Ken? 

BESS. 
I  do. 

GORDON. 
Of  course,  you  think  you  have  reason? 

BESS. 
I  have  reason. 

GORDON  (shaking  his  head). 
There's  some  mistake.     Owen  and  Ken  are  abso 
lutely  to  be  trusted. 

BESS  (impulsively). 

Which  is  the  reason  that  Kenneth,  who  was  madly 
in  love  with  Marie  Doulton  for  two  years,  sent  her 
a  magnificent  bunch  of  roses  to-day,  although  his 
engagement  to  Polly  Winslow  was  announced  only 
this  morning! 

[62] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 
What! 

BESS. 

That  is  quite  true.  Cecily  saw  the  envelope,  hold 
ing  Ken's  card  and  addressed  in  his  writing,  which 
was  to  go  with  them,  and  Owen  ordered  the  flowers 
at  Ken's  request. 

GORDON. 

Owen  ordered  the  flowers !  But  don't  you  see,  that 
in  itself  is  Kenneth's  vindication!  The  fact  that 
he  told  Owen  proves 

BESS  (hopefully). 

Oh,  do  you  think  so?  (Dejectedly.)  Owen  doesn't 
take  that  view  of  it. 

GORDON. 

Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Owen  believes — ?  (BESS 
nods.)  But  surely  he  disapproved? 

BESS. 

Oh,  yes,  he  disapproved — violently !  He  said  va 
rious  condemnatory  things  to  Cecily — and  then 
went  and  ordered  a  box  of  orchids  for  Miss  Doulton 
that  completely  overshadowed  Ken's  roses.  I  hap 
pened  to  see  him  selecting  them. 
[63] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GORDON. 

They  couldn't  have  been  for  Miss  Doulton.  They 
must  have  been  for  Cecily. 

BESS. 

Unfortunately,  I  was  with  Miss  Doulton  when  they 
arrived. 

GORDON. 

Then  he  substituted  orchids  for  roses  in  filling 
Ken's  order. 

BESS. 

To  what  purpose  ?  Ken  said  roses ;  and  the  shops 
are  full  of  them.  You  may  not  know  that  Owen, 
also,  was  very  much  in  love  with  Miss  Doulton  at 
one  time.  In  fact,  he  and  Kenneth  had  a  very  bit 
ter  quarrel  about  her. 

GORDON. 

There's  some  absurd  mistake  in  all  this.  Kenneth's 
a  good  deal  of  a  kid — but  he's  not  a  cad;  and  as  for 
Owen — oh,  it's  impossible!  Did  you  see  Owen's 
card  with  the  orchids? 

BESS. 

It  wasn't  necessary.  I  saw  him  select  and  pay  for 
them ;  and  Miss  Doulton  admitted  that  she  had  for 
bidden  him  to  continue  sending  them,  but  said  he 
would  do  it. 

[64] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

GORDON. 

I  tell  you,  there's  some  mistake ! 

BESS. 

How  about  the  roses  that  Ken  asked  Owen  to  order  ? 
I  suppose  that's  a  mistake,  too? 

GORDON. 

I  still  think  that  the  very  fact  that  he  confided  in 
Owen  proves  the  integrity  of  his  motive. 

BESS. 

He  probably  counted  on  the  honour  that  prevails 
among  thieves — (bitterly)  and  Owen  failed  him, 
even  there! 

GORDON. 

I'll  never  believe  it  until  they  tell  me  themselves. 
I  suppose  Cecily  and  Miss  Winslow  know 
all  this? 

BESS. 
Yes. 

GORDON  (gravely). 

And  is  this  the  cause  of  your  bitter  denunciation 
of  all  men? 

BESS. 
Isn't  it  enough?     If  Owen  and  Ken  are  not  to  be 

trusted 

[65] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
GORDON. 

But  they  are  to  be  trusted !  Believe  me,  they  are ! 
(BESS  shakes  her  head,  but  less  positively.)  If  I 
prove  it — if  I  prove  that  this  is  all  a  mistake,  will 
you  grant,  also,  that  perhaps  I  am  more  earnest 
than  I  have  been  painted,  and  give  me  a  chance  ? 

BESS  (faltering). 

But  I  saw 

GORDON. 

Never  mind  what  you  saw !  If  I  prove  that  Owen 
and  Ken  are  trustworthy,  will  you  trust  me,  too? 

BESS. 

If  you  can  prove  that  Ken  did  not  order  five  dozen 
roses  sent  to  Marie  Doulton  this  morning,  and  if 
you  can  prove  that  Owen  did  not  send  the  orchids 
that  I  saw  him  pay  for,  that  I  saw  delivered,  and 
that  she  admitted  she  ought  not  to  accept,  I'll 

GORDON. 

Yes? 

BESS  (laughing  nervously). 

I'll  believe  anything  else  you  choose  to  tell  me! 

(Exit  to  library.) 

GORDON. 

Whew !     (Sits  and  shakes  his  head  dubiously.) 
[66] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

Enter  KENNETH  from  the  veranda. 

GORDON. 

Hullo,  you  young  jackanapes  !    Where've  you  been 
all  day? 

KENNETH   (disgustedly). 

Centerville.     Where  are  the  girls? 

GORDON. 

Well,  you'd  better  have  been  at  home,  'tending  to 
your  knitting  work. 

KENNETH. 

Couldn't  help  it.     It  was  business. 

Enter  POLLY  from  the  hall. 

KENNETH. 

That  idiot  of  an  agent  up  there — oh,  here's  Polly ! 
(Advances  eagerly  toward  her.) 

POLLY  (coldly,  avoiding  him). 
Good  evening. 

KENNETH. 

Eh?     I  say,  what's  up? 

GORDON   (watching  keenly). 

As  I  said,  Kenneth,  you  dropped  a  stitch  and  your 

[67] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

knitting  work  got  tangled  in  your  absence.  Now, 
how  about 

Enter  CECILY  from  the  library. 

KENNETH  (eagerly). 

Hullo,  Cecily  !  What's  wrong  ?  (  CECILY  turns 
her  back  on  him.)  Well,  by  Jove,  I  think  you 
might  tell  a  fellow! 

GORDON. 

I'm  trying,  with  what  patience  is  in  me,  to  ex 
plain 

Enter  OWEN  from  the  veranda.     He  carries  a  box 
of  carnations. 

KENNETH. 

I  say,  Owen  !     What's  wrong  ? 

OWEN  (going  at  once  to  CECILY). 
Well,  sweetheart?  (She  slips  past  him,  with  a  re 
proachful  glance.)  What's  the  matter,  dear? 
Here ;  I  brought  you  some  carnations.  (Her  glance 
becomes  scornful  and  she  steps  back. )  Why,  what's 
the  matter? 

KENNETH. 

Well,  that's  what  I  want  to  know!     Here  I  come 

in,  after  a  deuce  of  a  day  at  Centerville,  and  they 

[68] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

all  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  convict !     And  you  seem 
to  be  equally  unpopular !     Oh,  here  comes  Bess ! 

Enter  BESS  from  the  veranda. 

KENNETH. 
Say,  Bess,  what's  wrong? 

BESS. 

You'd  better  ask  what's  right?     It  would  indicate 
a  more  hopeful  condition  of  your  moral  sense! 

OWEN. 

But  see  here ! 

KENNETH. 

Well,  I  swear!     Gordon,   do  you  know  anything 
about  this? 

GORDON. 

No ;   but   I  hope  to   untangle   it.      It's   primarily 
about  some  orchids,  I  believe. 

KENNETH  (puzzled). 
Orchids ! 

GORDON. 

Now,  this  is  Owen's  knitting  work,  Ken.    You  keep 
out. 

OWEN. 
Well,  what  about  them? 

[69] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GORDON. 

You  sent  some  to  Miss  Doulton? 

OWEN. 

No,  /  didn't  send  them.    That  is (Hesitates.) 

BESS. 

Owen  Belknap! 

GORDON  (patiently). 

Now,  if  you  please,  Miss  Maynard,  this  is  my  dem 
onstration.  Yours  will  come  later — I  hope.  (BESS 
bites  her  lip.)  Now,  Owen?  You  didn't  send 
them  ? 

OWEN. 

No,  I — well  (glancing  at  POLLY),  I'd  rather  not 
explain  here.  What  about  them,  anyway? 

GORDON. 

Well,  if  you  have  any  explanation  to  offer,  you'd 
better  get  about  it.  Right  here,  too.  A  hypothet 
ical  cat  seems  to  have  escaped  from  an  equally  hy 
pothetical  bag,  but  there's  no  secret  about  it.  I'm 
right,  ladies?  There's  no  secrecy?  Now,  Owen. 

OWEN  (troubled). 

But — you   see (He  hesitates   and   looks   at 

KENNETH.) 

[70] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

KENNETH. 

Out  with  it,  Owen  !  If  you  hold  the  key  to  this  mys 
tery,  for  heaven's  sake,  produce  it! 

OWEN. 

Well,  it's  simply  this.  I  ordered  those  orchids  at 
Ken's  request,  but  why  you  should  stand  me  up 

and 

CECILY. 
Oh,  Owen! 

KENNETH. 

I  didn't  say  orchids  !  I  said  roses !  (  POLLY  bursts 
into  tears.) 

OWEN. 

I  know  you  did.  You  said  you  wanted  five  dozen, 
of  the  choicest  variety.  You  also  informed  me 
(sarcastically)  that  expense  was  no  object,  and  as 
Bauer  had  not  five  dozen  fine  roses  of  one  kind  in 
his  shop,  and  as  he  had  some  particularly  good 
orchids,  I  thought  I'd  satisfy  your  desire  for  a 
large  bill,  so  I  ordered  the  orchids  sent  with  your 
card.  But  I  must  say,  Kenneth  (severely) 

KENNETH  (aghast). 
With  my  card! 

CECILY  (patting  OWEN'S  arm). 

Oh,  I  knew  all  the  time  there  must  be  some  such 

[71] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

explanation!  I  didn't  really  believe  it  for  a  mo 
ment  !  Bess,  you  might  have  known ! 

POLLY  (sobbing). 
And  I'd  have  trusted  Ken  through  anything! 

KENNETH. 

Now,  look  here!     You  people  don't  think,  for  one 

minute 

CECILY. 
Oh,  we  all  know  what  you  did ! 

BESS. 

Polly,  dear,  don't!  (She  tries  to  soothe  sobbing 
POLLY.  ) 

KENNETH  (hotly). 

I  suppose  you  all  think  that  because  I  ordered 
some  roses  sent  to  Marie  Doulton,  I'm  a  double- 
faced  scoundrel,  don't  you? 

CECILY. 

Some  roses! 

KENNETH. 

I  suppose  you've  all  been  retailing  the  story  of  rny 
youthful  infatuation  and  sitting  in  judgment  upon 
me,  haven't  you?  You've  even  been  torturing 
Polly  about  it — and  (sorrowfully)  she  believed 
you! 

[72] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

CECILY. 

Well,  but  you  told  Owen 

KENNETH. 

Of  course  I  told  Owen !  I'll  tell  all  of  you  if  you'll 
keep  still  long  enough  to  hear  it !  I  got  a  letter 
from  Fred  Grover  this  morning — he's  down  at  his 
mother's,  sick 

( POLLY  springs  up,  her  face  lighting.) 

BESS. 

Oh,  well,  never  mind 


GORDON. 

The  defendant  has  the  stand! 

KENNETH. 

He  said  Marie  had  refused  him  again 

CECILY. 

Well,  is  that  any  reason  why  you  should  send  her 
five  dozen  roses?     Just  after 

POLLY. 

Oh,  Cecily,  do  keep  still !     Don't  you  see  ?     They 
were  for  him ! 

KENNETH. 

That's  it !     They  were  for  Fred ! 
[73] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

POLLY. 

Oh,  Ken ! 

CECILY. 
But  the  card ! 

KENNETH. 

Was  his,  I  suppose.  I  didn't  look  at  it.  All  I  did 
was  to  put  her  address  on  the  envelope. 

POLLY. 

Oh,  Ken!  (She  runs  off  to  the  veranda,  pursued  by 
KENNETH.) 

CECILY. 

Then  all  this  has  been —  Oh,  Owen!  (She  looks 
penitently  at  him  and  extends  an  entreating  hand, 
which  he  takes  tenderly.  They  disappear  in  the 
library.) 

GORDON. 

Miss  Maynard,  I  submit  that  I  have  proved  my 
case. 

BESS. 

Wasn't  it  rather — vicarious? 

GORDON. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  proved.  Now  will  you  be 
lieve 

[74] 


MISS    DOULTON'S    ORCHIDS 

BESS 

(breathlessly,  making  one  last  stand  for  her  con 
victions). 

All  but  one  thing.     Don't  ever  attempt  to  convince 
me  that — that 

GORDON  (eagerly  impatient). 

Well? 

BESS. 

That  I'm  the  only  woman  you  ever  loved ! 

GORDON  (with  triumphant  conviction). 

But   you   are!      (He  steps  toward  her  with  out 
stretched  arms.) 


QUICK  CURTAIN. 


[75] 


THE  BURGLAR 


THE   BURGLAR 

A  Comedy  in  One  Act 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs.  John  Burton,  the  hostess. 

Mrs.  Valerie  Armsby,  a  young  widow. 

Mrs.  Charles  Dover,  a  bride. 

Miss  Freda  Dixon. 

Miss  Edith  Brent. 


The  cottage  occupied  by  MRS.  BURTON  is  one  of 
the  flimsy  structures  erected  by  the  owners  of  pop 
ular  summer  hotels,  in  which  guests  may  gain  in 
privacy  what  they  lose  in  protection  from  fire,  flood, 
and  thievery. 

The  sitting-room,  a  rectangular  apartment,  hav 
ing  little  to  recommend  it  architecturally,  is  lined 
with  doors,  one  of  which  leads  to  the  veranda,  oth 
ers  opening  into  the  bedrooms  used  by  MRS.  BUR 
TON  and  her  guests.  There  are  several  windows. 

c? 

The  furniture  is  mainly  of  wicker  and  rattan,  a 
few  photographs  and  lightly  framed  water-colors 
break  the  monotony  of  the  walls,  a  writing-table  is 
supplied  with  somewhat  luxurious  fittings,  and 
MRS.  BURTON  has  contrived,  by  the  judicious  im 
portation  of  cushions,  vases,  bits  of  drapery,  etc., 
to  imbue  the  bleak  little  room  with  a  suggestion  of 
her  own  gracious  femininity. 

MABEL,  DOVER,  a  diminutive  and  impetuous 
brunette,  sits  at  the  table,  writing.  She  reads  her 
letter,  kisses  it,  folds,  addresses,  seals,  and  stamps 
it.  Then  she  yawns  wearily.  After  listening  in 
vain  for  approaching  steps,  she  puts  in  order  the 
papers  littering  the  table,  and  yawns  again.  Pres- 
[79] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ently  women's  voices  are  heard  outside.  MABEL 
smiles  and  turns  expectantly  toward  the  door  lead 
ing  to  the  veranda. 

Enter  PEGGY  BURTON,  sensitive,  nervous,  and  im<- 
pulsive;  VALERIE  ARMSBY,  optimistic  and 
calm;  brisk,  competent,  cheery  FREDA  DIXON, 
and  EDITH  BRENT,  a  slender,  fragile,  big-eyed, 
soft-voiced  girl,  whose  gentle  manner  is  almost 
deprecating.  They  are  talking  excitedly. 

.     VALERIE. 

Well,  I  should  think  it  would  have  turned  her  hair 
grey!  Imagine  waking  out  of  a  sound  sleep  to 
find  a  man  in  one's  room !  Ugh ! 

FREDA. 

Oh,  he  wasn't  in  her  room!  He  was  just  in  the 
doorway. 

MABEL. 
In  whose  room? 

EDITH. 

Yes,  he  was  just  going,  with  all  her  rings  and  pins 
and  things. 

MABEL. 
Whose  rings? 

PEGGY. 

No,  that  wasn't  the  way  at  all !  She  told  me  her 
self.  He  was 

[80] 


THE    BURGLAR 

MABEL. 

Who  was?    Girls,  what  are  you  talking  about? 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  Mabel,  you  should  have  been  with  us !     The 
most  awful  thing  has  happened ! 

MABEL. 

Oh,  what  was  it? 

PEGGY. 

The     Endicott's     cottage     was     burglarised     last 
night 

EDITH. 

And  she  wroke  just  as  the  man  was  leaving  the  room 
with  all  her  things ! 

MABEL. 
Oh! 

VALERIE. 

No,  she  saw  him  standing  before  her  dressing-table, 
taking  her 

FREDA. 
Not  at  all !    The  man  was.  just  in  the  doorway 

EDITH. 

Yes,  just  leaving. 

PEGGY. 

No,  that  wasn't  the  way  at  all !     She  told  me  all 
about  it  herself. 

[81] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Did  he  really  get  all  her  things  ? 

VALERIE. 

Yes,  every  single  piece  of  jewelry  she  had  here,  ex 
cept  her  watch.     That  was  under  her  pillow. 

MABEL. 

Oh,  how  awful ! 

FREDA. 
He  took  all  her  rings. 

PEGGY. 

Except  her  wedding-ring.      She  never  takes  that 
off. 

EDITH. 

And  all  her  pins.     You  remember  that  lovely  dia 
mond  crescent? 

MABEL. 
Oh,  did  he  get  that? 

PEGGY. 
Yes,  and  her  necklace  with  the  ruby  pendant. 

FREDA. 

Well,  I  think  she  deserves  to  lose  them !     The  idea 
of   keeping   all   those   valuable  things   in   a   little 
flimsy  cottage !     Why  didn't  she  take  them  to  the 
hotel  and  have  them  put  in  the  safe  ? 
[82] 


THE    BURGLAR 
VALERIE. 

Well,  she'd  been  entertaining  the  whist  club  in  the 
afternoon,  and  she  had  a  lot  of  people  to  dinner, 
and  so  she  wanted  those  things  to  wear. 

EDITH. 

And  when  her  guests  were  gone,  she  was  tired  and 
thought  she  wouldn't  bother  about  the  things  until 
morning. 

FREDA. 

Well,  it's  excessively  bad  taste  to  wear  that  sort 
of  thing  in  the  country,  anyway. 

VALERIE. 

That  doesn't  alter  the  fact  that  she  lost  them  all, 
and  was  nearly  frightened  to  death  besides. 

MABEL. 

Do  somebody  tell  me  what  happened ! 

(The  others  all  speak  at  once,  as  follows.) 

VALERIE. 

Well,  she  woke  and  saw 

FREDA. 

He  was  in  the  doorway  when 


[83] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

EDITH. 

She  was  awakened  by  a  queer  sound 

PEGGY. 

Well,  she  told  me  herself 

(There  is  dead  silence,  as  they  look  indignantly 
from  one  to  another.) 

MABEL. 

Oh,  if  you're  all  going  to  talk  at  once ! 

VALERIE. 

Well,  you  see 

EDITH. 
It  was  just  this  way 

FREDA. 

Her  brother  told  me 

PEGGY. 

Well,  she  told  me !  Now,  will  you  listen !  It  hap 
pened  just  this  way.  She  woke  all  at  once — as  if 
she'd  been  called,  don't  you  know? — with  the  feel 
ing  that  some  one  was  in  her  room.  You  know ;  a 
sort  of  creepy,  startled,  awful  feeling ! 

EDITH  (shuddering). 
Oh,  just  think  of  it! 

[84] 


THE    BURGLAR 

PEGGY. 

And  then  she  heard  footsteps — slow,  stealthy  sort 
of  steps 

MABEL   (glancing  over  her  shoulder). 
Oh !    Go  on ! 

PEGGY. 

And  then — it  was  bright  moonlight  and  the  cur 
tains  were  up — she  saw  a  man  coming  into  her 
room! 

MABEL    (shrilly  screaming). 
Oh! 

EDITH. 
No,  he  was  going  out. 

VALERIE. 

No,  he  was  already  in ! 

PEGGY  (firmly). 
He  was  just  entering.     She  told  me  so  herself. 

FREDA. 

Her  brother  told  me  that  the  man  was  just  in  the 
doorway,  going  out. 

EDITH. 
Yes,  he  was. 

PEGGY  (crushingly). 

Well,  as  her  brother  wasn't  there  and  she  was,  per 
haps  you'll  admit  that  she's  the  better  authority. 
[85] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

And  she  lay  there,  stiff  with  fright,  and  watched 
that  man  go  to  her  dressing-table  and  take  all  her 
lovely  things,  and  she  never  made  a  sound ! 

EDITH. 

Oh,  I  don't  see  how  she  could  keep  still ! 

MABEL  (promptly). 

Oh,  I  do!  When  I'm  frightened,  I  simply  can't 
scream !  It  seems  to  paralyse  my  vocal  chords. 

FREDA. 

What  good  would  it  do  to  scream,  I'd  like  to  know  ? 
He  was  already  out  of  her  room. 

PEGGY. 

Freda!  You  are  so  obstinate!  He  was  just  enter 
ing  the  room,  and  if  she  had  screamed  it  would 
have  frightened  him  away. 

FREDA. 

Well,  maybe  it  would  and  maybe  it  wouldn't!  I 
once  heard  of  a  woman  who  screamed  at  a  burglar, 
and  he  jumped  over  to  the  bed  and  choked  her  into 
insensibility.  (The  others  huddle  together  with 
nervous  ejaculations.)  Catch  me  making  any  fuss 
if  I  see  a  burglar!  He  can  just  take  everything 
there  is,  as  long  as  he  doesn't  disturb  me,  and  I'll 
not  try  to  stop  him ! 

[86] 


THE    BURGLAR 

PEGGY  (irritably). 

Yes,  and  I  verily  believe  it  wouldn't  "disturb"  you, 
as  you  say,  if  he  took  every  earthly  thing  you  pos 
sessed  ! 

FREDA  (laughing). 
Oh,  well — !    Come  on,  girls,  let's  go  to  bed. 

PEGGY,  EDITH. 
To  bed? 

FREDA  (yawning). 
Yes,  it's  all  hours. 

PEGGY. 
Go  to  bed — with  that  man  at  large  ? 

MABEL. 

Oh !    Didn't  they  catch  him? 

VALERIE. 

No,  she  never  made  a  sound  until  he  was  well  out 
of  the  way. 

MABEL  (shrilly). 
And  they  haven't  found  him  yet? 

FREDA. 

No,  they  can't  even  find  a  clue. 

MABEL. 

Oh,  girls !     And  you  left  me  here  all  alone,  this 
whole  evening !    How  could  you ! 
[87] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Why  didn't  you  come  with  us? 

MABEL. 

I  wanted  to  write  to  Charlie. 

FREDA  (mischievously). 

To  Charlie!     Why,  you  spent  the  whole  morning 
writing  to  him ! 

MABEL. 

Certainly;   but  I   couldn't  tell   him  this  morning 
what  happened  this  afternoon,  could  I? 

VALERIE. 

And   I  suppose  you'll  spend  to-morrow  morning 
writing  him  what  happened  during  the  night? 

PEGGY  (shuddering). 

Oh,  don't,  Val!     It  sounds  as  if  you  expected  a 
burglar  here! 

MABEL  (with  dignity). 
I  shall  certainly  write  him  about  this  affair. 

FREDA. 

But  he's  coming  down  to-morrow,  isn't  he? 

MABEL. 

Yes,  but  he'll  get  the  letter  just  before  he  starts, 
[88] 


THE    BURGLAR 

you  know;  and,  oh  (with  a  sobbing  breath),  when 
Charlie  gets  here,  I  sha'n't  have  to  stay  all  alone  in 
a  great,  empty  house,  with  burglars  and  murder 
ers  and — and  brigands — all  around  me! 

VALERIE    (shrugging  her  shoulders). 
Well,  "you  pays  your  money  and  you  takes  your 
choice" !    You  might  have  come  with  us. 

EDITH  (her  arm  around  MABEL). 
I  think  you  girls  are  perfectly  heartless!     Poor 
Mabel  might  have  been  horribly  frightened! 

MABEL. 

Yes,  or  even  murdered ! 

FREDA. 

Well,  anyhow,  she  wasn't;  and  I  don't  believe 
there's  any  danger  anyway. 

PEGGY. 

Freda  !     You  aren't  really  going  to  bed ! 

FREDA. 

Why,  of  course  I  am  !     Aren't  you  ? 

PEGGY. 

No! 

FREDA. 

Nor  you,  Mabel? 

[89] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

I — I — don't  know.  I  was  very  sleepy  before  you 
came,  but — oh,  (whimpering)  I  wish  Charlie  would 
come! 

FREDA. 
You're  not  afraid,  Val? 

VALERIE  (glancing  over  her  shoulder). 
Oh,  no !    No,  I — I'm  not  afraid. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  I  wouldn't  go  to  bed  for  anything !  Not  after 
this! 

FREDA  (drily). 

Going  to  spend  the  remainder  of  your  life  looking 
four  ways  at  once  for  a  burglar  ?  It  won't  improve 
your  appearance. 

MABEL. 

Oh,  and  Charlie's  coming  to-morrow,  too !  I  must 
manage  to  get  some  sleep  or  I'll  look  like  a  perfect 
ghost ! 

FREDA. 

Now,  you  girls  go  to  bed  sensibly.  It's  extremely 
unlikely  that  there  will  be  another  burglary  to 
night;  and,  anyway,  we  have  nothing  to  tempt  a 
thief. 

PEGGY. 
We  have  our  rings. 

[90] 


THE    BURGLAR 

FREDA. 

Yes,  but  that's  all.    Now,  go  on !    Go  to  bed ! 

PEGGY  (looking  at  the  others). 
Will  you,  girls?     Do  you  think  we'd  better? 

EDITH  (tremulously). 
Oh,  I'm  so  frightened ! 

MABEL. 

Oh,  I  wish  Charlie  had  come  to-night ! 

PEGGY. 

I  shall  never  let  Jack  leave  me  in  the  summer  again ! 
In  town,  I  don't  mind — so  much,  but  it's  horrible 
to  be  left  unprotected  like  this  in  the  country ! 

VALERIE. 

Well,  I  don't  see  why  that  woman  didn't  scream 
last  night,  so  somebody  could  catch  the  thief. 

PEGGY. 

Nor  I.  So  selfish  of  her !  Just  because  she  was  a 
little  frightened,  she  subjects  all  of  us  to  this  awful 
danger ! 

FREDA. 

Pouf !    There  isn't  a  bit  of  danger !    I'm  going  to 
bed.    Good  night.     (She  goes  to  her  door.) 
[91] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Aren't  you  really  a  bit  afraid,  Freda  ? 

FREDA. 

No,  of  course  I'm  not!  There's  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of!  Good  night.  (She  enters  her  room,  clos 
ing  the  door  after  her. ) 

EDITH. 

Are  you  going  to  bed,  Peggy  ? 

PEGGY. 

No — yes — oh,  I  don't  know !    Oh,  I  want  Jack ! 

MABEL. 

If  Charlie  had  only  come  to-night ! 

PEGGY. 

Well,  why  didn't  you  arrange  it?  He  might  have 
come  just  as  well  as  not,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned. 

MABEL. 

Why,  Peggy !  Your  invitation  was  for  him  to 
come  from  Saturday  to  Monday. 

PEGGY  (impatiently). 

Well,  suppose   it  was?     You  might  have   known 

that  we  should  need  a  man  here !    I  thought  only  of 

[92] 


THE    BURGLAR 

Charlie's  business.     Jack  never  can  get  away  Fri 
day  night. 

MABEL  (complacently). 

Charlie  has  no  business  that  interferes  with  his  duty 

to  me! 

PEGGY  (irritably). 

Well,  why  isn't  he  here,  then?     Heaven  knows,  if 
ever  you  needed  him,  it's  now ! 

VALERIE. 

Oh,  well,  Freda's  probably  right.     I  dare  say  there 
isn't  an  atom  of  danger.     Come  on !     Let's  go  to 

bed. 

MABEL. 

Suppose  he  should  come  in  the  night.    What  should 

we  do? 

EDITH. 

Scream ! 

MABEL. 

Oh,  I  couldn't!  I  can't  make  a  sound  when  I'm 
frightened ! 

PEGGY. 

I  heard  of  a  woman  who  screamed  at  a  burglar  one 
night  until  she  permanently  injured  her  vocal 
chords,  and  her  voice  was  never  the  same  again. 

MABEL,  VALERIE. 

O-oh! 

[93] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

EDITH. 

My  mother  once  knew  a  woman  who  lay  perfectly 
still  while  a  burglar  felt  under  the  mattress  on 
which  she  lay  and  took  out  some  silver;  and  when 
she  tried  to  scream  she  couldn't!  Her  throat,  or 
something,  was  paralysed,  and  she  didn't  recover 
her  voice  for  more  than  a  year. 

MABEL,    PEGGY. 

Oh,  Edith! 

FREDA  ( in  her  own  room,  sleepily  ) . 
Oh,  girls,  do  go  to  bed !     Mabel,  you'll  be  a  fright 
to-morrow  if  you  don't  get  some  sleep ! 

MABEL. 

That's  so — and  Charlie's  coming!  Well  (desper 
ately),  I'm  going!  Good  night,  girls. 

THE    OTHERS. 
Good  night. 

(MABEL,  pauses  a  moment  by  her  door,  peeps  cau 
tiously  into  her  room,  and  goes  out.  Some 
thing  falls  in  FREDA'S  room.  MABEL  runs  on 
again,  screaming  shrilly.  The  girls  clutch 
one  another  and  listen  without  breathing.) 

MABEL  (whispering). 
Oh,  what  was  that? 

[94] 


THE    BURGLAR 

PEGGY. 
I — I  don't  know. 

VALERIE  (cautiously,  at  FREDA'S  door). 
Freda  !     Freda,  did  you  hear  that? 

FREDA  (in  her  room). 
Hear  what? 

VALERIE. 

That  noise. 

FREDA. 

Why,  of  course  I  did !    I  dropped  my  shoe. 
(  The  girls  separate,  foolishly  laughing. ) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  certainly!  I  thought — I  thought  it  sounded 
like  a  shoe ! 

VALERIE. 

With  a  man's  foot  in  it!  What  geese  we  were! 
(MABEL  goes  to  her  door  and  peeps  in  again.) 
Oh,  go  on,  Mabel !  We're  all  here,  and  wide  awake. 
There's  no  danger,  anyway.  (MABEL  goes  out.) 

PEGGY. 

Why,   that's   so!     Burglars   always   wait   for  the 
lights  to   be  out,   don't  they?     I'll  tell  you  what 
we'll  do !    We'll  leave  a  light  here  all  night. 
[95] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Why,  of  course ! 

FREDA  (in  her  room). 
Girls,  please  go  to  bed ! 

Enter  MABEL,  wearing  a  charming  dressing-gown. 

PEGGY  (alarmed). 
What's  the  matter? 

MABEL  (whispering). 

I'm  going  to  hide  my  rings,  each  in  a  different 
place,  so  if  he  finds  one  I'll  still  have  the  rest. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  splendid !  (  They  tiptoe  about,  apprehensively 
glancing  to  right  and  left,  and  hide  their  rings  in 
all  sorts  of  absurd  places.  PEGGY  slips  one  under 
a  rug,  and  MABEL,,  standing  on  a  chair,  hangs  a 
glowing  ruby  on  a  pin  which  she  has  thrust  into 
the  wall.  Presently  she  nods  to  the  girls  and  re 
turns  to  her  room.) 

VALERIE  (yawning). 
Well,  I'm  getting  sleepy,  too.     Good  night,  girls. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  Val,  don't  leave  us ! 

[96] 


THE    BURGLAR 

VALERIE. 

You  go  to !     To  bed,  I  mean !     Good  night. 

(Exit  to  her  room.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  Edith,  I'm  so  frightened !  You  come  and  sleep 
with  me. 

EDITH. 

Oh,  no!  I'd  be  awfully  afraid  in  your  room!  It 
has  those  long  windows  opening  on  the  side  porch. 
He  might  come  in  there.  You  come  and  sleep  with 
me. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  not  for  worlds!  I  shouldn't  sleep  a  wink  in 
that  room  !  It's  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  burg 
lars  always  come  in  from  the  back. 

EDITH. 

Well— 

PEGGY. 
Well— 

EDITH  (reluctantly). 
Good  night,  then. 

PEGGY. 

Good  night.  (They  tiptoe  to  their  doors  and 
pause. ) 

EDITH  (whispering). 

Did  you  hear  anything? 

[  97  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 
No.     Did  you? 

EDITH. 

No. 

(Nodding  reassuringly  at  each  other  they  go  out.) 

PEGGY  reappears  again  immediately,  tiptoes  to 
each  window  to  see  that  it  is  fastened,  tries 
the  door  leading  to  the  veranda,  listens  at 
each  bed-room  door,  and  is  about  to  re-enter 
her  room  when  EDITH,  entering  suddenly 
from  her  own  apartment,  gives  utterance  to 
strange,  inarticulate  sounds. 

PEGGY  (startled). 
Oh !    Good  gracious,  Edith ! 

EDITH  (panting). 

Oh,  Peggy,  how  you  frightened  me !  What  are  you 
doing? 

PEGGY. 

I  came  to  see  if  everything  was  all  right.  Mabel's 
light's  out  and  Freda's  asleep.  I  can  tell  by  her 
breathing. 

EDITH. 
I'm  sorry  I  screamed  and  startled  you. 

PEGGY. 

You  didn't  scream. 

[98] 


THE    BURGLAR 

EDITH. 

Oh,  yes,  I  did!    When  I  saw  you.     It  frightened 


me  so. 


VALERIE  creeps  cautiously  in,  in  negligee. 

VALERIE  (relieved). 
Oh,  girls,  it's  you ! 

PEGGY,    EDITH  (m  alarm). 
Did  you  hear  anything? 

VALERIE. 

Well,  I  thought  I  did — but  probably  it  was  you. 

EDITH. 

It  was  I.     I  came  out  and  found  Peggy  here — and 
I  screamed. 

PEGGY. 

You  didn't  scream  at  all !    You  just  made  a  funny, 
choking  sound. 

EDITH. 

Nonsense!     You  were  so  frightened  yourself  you 
don't  know  what  I  did !    I  simply  shrieked ! 

VALERIE. 

I  didn't  hear  you. 

EDITH. 

Well,  I  did!    I  always  scream  when  I'm  frightened. 
I  can't  help  it. 

[99] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Well 

VALERIE. 

Well,  good  night. 

PEGGY,   EDITH. 

Good  night. 

PEGGY  (pausing  at  her  door). 
Listen !    What  was  that  ? 

EDITH  (at  her  door). 
What? 

VALERIE  (at  her  door). 
I  didn't  hear  anything. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  didn't  you?    Oh,  well — good  night. 

(They  all  go  out.) 

After  a  pause,  there  is  heard  the  sound  of  a  falling 
body  in  MABEL'S  room.  A  momentary  silence 
is  followed  by  piercing  shrieks  from  MABEL, 
who  runs  on,  wrapping  a  bath-robe  about  her 
and  still  wildly  screaming.  PEGGY,  EDITH, 
and  VALERIE,  all  in  negligee,  enter  hastily. 
EDITH  gasps  convulsively  and  clutches  her 
throat. 

[100] 


THE    BURGLAR 

PEGGY  (hysterically). 

Oh,  what  was  it?     Oh,  Mabel,  did  you  see  any 
thing? 

MABEL. 
Didn't  you  hear  it?    O-oh!    (Screams.)    Oh!    Oh! 

VALERIE. 

Of  course  we  heard  it ! 

Enter  FREDA,   wearing  a  bath-robe  and  blinking 


VALERIE. 

Oh,  Freda,  did  you  hear  it  ? 

FREDA. 
Hear  what?     What  was  it? 

EDITH. 

Oh,  I  don't  know ! 

PEGGY. 
It  was — a  man! 

MABEL  (screaming). 
Oh !    Did  you  see  him  ? 

PEGGY. 
I — I  don't  know.    I  think  I  did.     I'm  sure  I  saw  a 

shadow  steal  across  my  curtain  just  before 

[101] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
MABEL. 

He  was  in  my  room!     (Screams.) 

FREDA. 

Are  you  sure? 

VALERIE. 
Did  you  see  him? 

PEGGY. 
How  do  you  know  ? 

EDITH. 
Did  he  touch  you? 

MABEL. 

No,  but  he  was  there !  He  knocked  something  off 
the  table,  and  then — I  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened, 
and,  girls — I  heard  him  breathe  !  (  The  girls  crowd 
together,  cowering  and  exclaiming.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  what  shall  we  do? 

FREDA  (severely). 

Peggy >  y°u  ought  to  have  a  telephone  in  the  house 
for  just  such  emergencies,  if  for  nothing  else.  (A 
slight  creaking  makes  them  all  start  nervously.) 

MABEL. 

Oh,  did  you  hear  anything? 
[  102  ] 


THE    BURGLAR 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  didn't  you? 

FREDA. 

It  was  just  the  house  creaking,  I  think. 

VALERIE  (uncertainly). 
Yes,  of  course,  that  was  it? 

PEGGY. 

Did  you  see  the  man,  Freda? 

FREDA. 

I  was  asleep.     The  first  thing  I  heard  was  Mabel 
screaming. 

MABEL  (indignantly). 

I  didn't  scream !    I  never  scream  when  I'm  fright 
ened  !     I  can't ! 

EDITH. 
I  screamed,  Freda. 

VALERIE. 

No,  you  didn't.     You  just  gurgled  a  little,  but 
Mabel  shrieked ! 

MABEL. 

I  didn't!   O-o-oh!    (Screams  and  clutches  FREDA.) 
What  was  that?     I  saw  something  moving  in  my 
room.     Oh,  girls,  he's  in  there ! 
[103] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  what  shall  I  do?    Oh,  I'll  never  let  Jack  leave 
me  again ! 

MABEL  (moaning). 
Oh,  Charlie!    Charlie! 

VALERIE. 

Well,  what  are  we  going  to  do  ? 

FREDA. 

We  might  pull  the  door  suddenly  shut  and  lock  it. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  he  might  set  fire  to  the  house ! 

EDITH. 

He'd  surely  steal  all  Mabel's  things,  then ! 

VALERIE. 

He'd  escape  through  the  window. 

MABEL. 

Besides,  the  key's  on  the  inside. 

FREDA. 

We  might  blow  a  police-whistle. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  no !    We'd  have  to  stand  at  the  window  to  make 
[104] 


THE    BURGLAR 

anybody  hear  us,  and  then  he  might — shoot  us! 
(  EDITH  and  MABEL  moan. ) 

FREDA. 

We  might —    Peggy,  is  Jack's  revolver  down  here? 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  but — oh,  Freda,  you  won't  use  that?     You 
mustn't,  Freda !    You  might  shoot  somebody ! 

FREDA  (grimly). 
That's  what  guns  are  for.     Go  and  get  it. 

PEGGY  (whimpering). 
Oh,  no,  Freda ! 

EDITH. 
Oh,  I'm  so  frightened ! 

MABEL  (sobbing). 
Don't,  Freda !    Don't ! 

FREDA. 

He  has  a  shotgun,  too,  hasn't  he? 

PEGGY. 

Yes. 

FREDA. 

Where  is  it? 

[105] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

In  my  room. 

FREDA. 
Bring  that,  too. 

PEGGY  (pleadingly). 
Oh,  Freda! 

VALERIE. 

What  are  you  going  to  do,  Freda  ? 

FREDA. 

I'm  going  to  help  capture  that  man,  if  I  can. 

VALERIE. 

Oh,  he  isn't  there  now !    He's  surely  gone  out  of  a 
window  by  this  time,  we've  made  such  a  fuss ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  do  you  think  so  ?     Listen ! 

MABEL  (hysterically). 

O-oh!     Girls,  I  hear  something!     Don't  you  hear 
something  ? 

FREDA. 
Keep  still,  Mabel !    Peggy,  go  and  get  that  gun. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  no,  Freda !    Oh !  ( loudly,  turning  toward  MA- 
[106] 


THE    BURGLAR 

BEL'S  open  door)  won't  you  please  go  'way?  We 
won't  hurt  you  if 

FREDA  (sternly). 

Peggy!  If  that  man's  in  the  house,  we  ought  to 
keep  him  here  until  the  police  come. 

PEGGY. 

Well,  I  don't  see  why !  If  he'll  go  away  peacefully, 
that's  all  I'll  ask  of  him. 

FREDA. 

But  we  ought  to  see  that  he's  captured. 

PEGGY. 

What  are  the  police  for?  Let  them  catch  him!  I 
don't  want  anything  to  do  with  it ! 

FREDA. 

But  if  we  let  him  escape  again,  he'll  terrify — and 
perhaps  murder — other  women. 

MABEL. 

Oh,  Freda!    (Screams.) 

PEGGY. 

Well,  perhaps  they'll  have  some  men  to  protect 
them.  We  can't  send  word  to  anybody  until  morn 
ing. 

[107] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

FREDA. 

Then  we'll  keep  him  here  all  night. 

THE   OTHERS  (in  consternation). 
All  night! 

FREDA  (firmly). 

All  night !  We  have  no  right  to  let  him  escape,  as 
Mrs.  Endicott  did,  to  repeat  this  sort  of  thing. 
Peggy,  the  guns ! 

PEGGY  (whimpering). 
Oh,  I'm  afraid ! 

FREDA. 

I'll  go  with  you,  then.  Come!  (She  pulls  the  re 
luctant  PEGGY  toward  the  door,  where  they  pause  a 
moment  listening,  and  then  enter  PEGGY'S  room.) 

MABEL. 

Oh,  I  wonder  if  he's  in  there  still?  I  heard  him 
breathe ! 

VALERIE. 

And  Peggy  said  she  saw  him  go  across  the  veranda. 
She  saw  his  shadow  on  her  curtain ! 

EDITH. 

I  heard  a  queer  sound,  too.  Girls!  The  bath  is 
next  my  room,  and  I  believe  that  window  was  left 
open! 

[  108  ] 


THE    BURGLAR 

VALERIE. 

It  was.  It's  always  open.  It's  stuck  in  the  casing 
and  can't  be  moved. 

MABEL. 
Then  that's  where  he  got  in. 

EDITH. 

He  must  have  come  right  through  this  room! 
(They  huddle  together.)  He  must  have  entered 
Mabel's  room  by  that  door. 

MABEL. 

Oh,  I  might  have  been  murdered  in  my  bed!  (A 
sound  as  of  something  striking  the  floor  firmly  is 
hear  din  PEGGY'S  room.)  O-oh!  O-o-oh!  Did  you 
hear  that  ? 

EDITH. 

Oh,  maybe  he's  in  there  now!  Maybe  (gasping) 
he's  killing  the  girls!  , 

VALERIE. 

Oh,  no,  he  couldn't — could  he  ?  One  of  them  would 
scream ! 

Enter  PEGGY  and  FREDA.    PEGGY  carries  the  shot 
gun  tremblingly  before  her,  and  FREDA  flour 
ishes  a  revolver.     As  they  appear,  the  others 
all  cower,  with  exclamations. 
[109] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Oh,  oh,  Freda ! 

MABEL. 
Oh,  don't!     Oh,  don't! 

EDITH. 

Oh,  girls !    Peggy !    Peggy ! 

FREDA. 

Now,  if  that  man's  in  Mabel's  room,  we'll  do  what 
we  can  to  keep  him  there  until  help  comes. 

VALERIE. 

Well,  if  he's  there  after  all  this,  he's  either  a  fool 
or  a  lunatic ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  mercy !    Val !    Oh,  girls,  suppose  he  should  be 
a  crazy  man ! 

EDITH. 
He  might  try  to  kill  us  all ! 

MABEL. 

Or  set  fire  to  the  house !     Don't  you  smell  smoke  ? 
(They  all  sniff  expectantly.) 

PEGGY. 

He  might  kill  himself  in  there.     Girls,  do  you  sup- 
[110] 


THE    BURGLAR 

pose  he  has  killed  himself?  Is  that  the  reason  he's 
so  quiet? 

EDITH. 
Oh,  dear! 

MABEL. 
Oh,  Peggy! 

VALERIE. 
Nonsense !    I  don't  believe  he's  in  there  at  all ! 

FREDA. 

Well,  he  may  be.  It's  better  not  to  take  any 
chances.  Val,  can  you  shoot? 

VALERIE  (retreating). 
No ;  at  least — I  haven't  tried  for  years. 

FREDA. 

Edith? 

EDITH  (shuddering). 
Oh,  no ! 

FREDA  (doubtfully). 
Mabel? 

MABEL. 
Mercy,  no !    I  never  touched  a  gun ! 

FREDA. 

Then  you'll  have  to  do  it,  Val.  You  take  the  shot 
gun — give  it  to  her,  Peggy — and  sit  by  the  win 
dow. 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
PEGGY. 

Oh,  it's  not  safe !  If  he's  out  there,  he  might  shoot 
her! 

FREDA. 

No,  he  won't!  Now,  you  stand  there  (placing  VAL 
ERIE  beside  a  window),  so  that  if  he  leaves  Mabel's 
room  by  the  window  you  can  see  him,  and  he  can't 
see  you  from  the  garden.  That's  right.  And  if 
you  see  him,  shoot! 

VALERIE  (proffering  the  gun). 
Oh,  Freda,  you  do  it ! 

FREDA. 

Can't.  I'm  going  to  sit  here  and  watch  that  door. 
I'm  a  pretty  good  shot.  That's  the  reason  I  gave 
you  the  gun.  Bird-shot  scatters.  Now,  the  rest 
of  you  may  as  well  go  to  bed. 

EDITH,  MABEL,  PEGGY. 
To  bed! 

FREDA. 

Might  as  well.     You  can't  do  anything  here. 

MABEL. 

Listen !     He  moved  then ! 

[112] 


THE    BURGLAR 

VALERIE  (turning  toward  them}. 
Nonsense!     The  floor  creaks  like  that  when  there 
isn't  a  soul  stirring! 

FREDA. 
Go  back  to  your  window.     (VALERIE  turns  back.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  girls!     Are  you  going  to  keep  like  this  all 
night  ? 

FREDA. 

All  night — unless  he  comes  out. 

EDITH. 

Let's  listen  and  see  if  we  can  hear  him  breathe ! 

VALERIE 

(turning  toward  them  again). 
Well,  how  on  earth  do  you  expect  to  hear  one  man 
breathe  when  there  are  five  women   in  the  room, 
three  of  them  literally  panting  with  fright! 

FREDA  (sternly). 
Val,  your  window ! 

VALERIE. 

Freda,  do  you  honestly  think  there's  any  one  in 
there? 

FREDA. 

Well — probably  not,  but  then • 

[  "3  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE 

(decisively,  leaving  the  window*  and  putting  aside 

her  gun). 

Well,  I'm  not  going  to  stand  there  all  night  strain 
ing  my  eyes  to  see  a  man  who  probably  escaped  half 
an  hour  ago. 

MABEL  (reproachfully). 
Oh,Val! 

EDITH. 
Oh,  don't  leave  us  unprotected ! 

PEGGY  (indignantly). 
I  think  you  might  do  what  you  can  to  help,  Val ! 

FREDA. 

Well — will  you  go  in  and  see  if  the  room's  empty? 
(EDITH,  MABEL,  and  PEGGY  shudder.) 

VALERIE. 

N-no,  I'd  rather  not  do  that.  But  Mabel  can  spend 
the  rest  of  the  night  with  me,  in  my  room. 

MABEL. 

I  shall  spend  the  rest  of  the  night  right  here ! 

PEGGY. 

And  I! 

EDITH. 

And  I! 

[114] 


THE    BURGLAR 

VALERIE. 

That  being  the  case,  /  shall  go  to  bed ! 

FREDA. 

Well — see  here,  Val,  perhaps  you  are  right.     I'm 
not  afraid — much.     I'll  go  in. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  no,  Freda,  don't!     (All  the  girls,  except  VAL 
ERIE,  cling  protestingly  to  FREDA.) 

FREDA. 

But  somebody  must  take  the  revolver  and  be  ready 
to  shoot  if  he  tries  to  run  out. 

THE    OTHERS 

(precipitately  backing  away). 
Oh,  no ! 

FREDA  (commandingly). 
Peggy ! 

PEGGY  (reluctantly). 

Well,  I  do  know  how  to  shoot — a  little. 

FREDA. 

Now,  listen !  If  the  man  tries  to  escape,  shoot  him ! 
(The  girls  moan.)  Val,  go  back  to  your  window. 
(VALERIE  obeys,  taking  the  shotgun  with  her.) 
Girls,  I — I  may  be  taking  a  desperate  chance !  If 
you  hear  me  scream,  fire  several  shots  out  of  the 
[115] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

window  for  help,  and  then  all  come  in  to  me  to 
gether. 

VALERIE. 
Why  not  fire  out  of  the  window  for  help  anyway  ? 

FREDA. 

Because  we  can't  afford  to  waste  our  ammunition. 
We  may  need  it.  Here,  Peggy.  (She  hands  the 
revolver  to  PEGGY,  who  handles  it  recklessly.) 
Here!  Don't  do  that!  It's  loaded!  Now!  Ready? 

EDITH. 

Oh,  Freda,  don't  go  in  there! 

MABEL. 

If  anything  happens  to  you,  I'll  never  forgive  my 
self! 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  Freda !    Please,  please  don't ! 

FREDA  (dodging). 

Peggy!  Be  careful  with  that  revolver!  Now! 
I'm  going!  (She  goes  cautiously  into  MABEL'S 
room. ) 

(PEGGY  whimpers  and  aims  the  revolver  wherever 
her  glance  happens  to  wander.     EDITH  and 
MABEL,  both  sobbing,  still  have  their  agility 
[  116  ] 


THE    BURGLAR 

somewhat  taxed  in  their  efforts  to  keep  out  of 
range  of  PEGGY'S  revolver,  and  at  the  same 
time  not  to  turn  their  backs  toward  the  dread 
ed  doorway.  A  little  clatter  is  heard  in  MA 
BEL'S  room.  MABEL,  screams.) 

EDITH  (wildly). 
Shoot,  Peggy!    Shoot! 

VALERIE 

(springing  toward  PEGGY). 
No !    No!    NO !     She  pushed  back  the  curtain ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  that  was  it ! 

FREDA  (in  MABEL'S  room). 
Oh !    Why  !    Here  he  is,  girls ! 

(MABEL  shrieks  and  covers  her  face.  EDITH,  gasp 
ing,  leans  against  a  table,  imploringly  waving 
her  arms  at  PEGGY,  who  snaps  the  revolver 
again  and  again,  aiming  it  in  any  and  all  di 
rections.  ) 

VALERIE 

(snatching  the  revolver  from  PEGGY  and  examin 
ing  it  hurriedly). 

That  thing's  not  loaded!    (She  tosses  it  aside,  lifts 

the  shotgun  and  snaps  it  twice  before  she  drops  it. ) 

Neither  is  that!     Come,  girls!     (She  starts  toward 

[117] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

MABEL'S     room.       Pauses     suddenly,     listening.) 
Why — she's  laughing! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  she  must  have  gone  crazy ! 

MABEL  {screaming). 
Oh,  Freda !     Freda ! 

FREDA 

(vn  MABEL'S  room,  laughing  hysterically). 
Here  he  is!     I've  got  him!     (She  appears  in  the 
doorway,  carrying  a  large  Maltese  cat.)     Here's 
your  burglar ! 


CURTAIN. 


[118] 


THE  KLEPTOMANIAC 


THE   KLEPTOMANIAC 

A  Comedy  in  One  Act 

CHARACTERS 
Mrs.  John  Burton  (Peggy). 
Mrs.  Valerie  Chase  Armsby,  a  young  widow. 
Mrs.  Charles  Dover  (Mabel),  a  bride. 
Mrs.  Preston  Ashley  (Bertha). 
Miss  Freda  Dixon. 
Miss  Evelyn  Evans,  a  journalist. 
Katie,  Mrs.  Burton's  maid. 


MRS.  BURTON'S  boudoir  is  a  rose-coloured  apart 
ment  and  is  hung,  strewn,  and  otherwise  embel 
lished  with  a  thousand  ornamental  and  more  or  less 
useless  trifles  bespeaking  the  superlative  femininity 
of  the  occupant.  A  door  on  the  right  leads  to  the 
hall.  Near  the  door  is  a  divan,  piled  with  soft  cush 
ions,  and  a  tea-table,  dressing-table,  and  desk  are 
littered  with  shining  appurtenances.  A  small  table 
near  the  desk  holds  a  desk  telephone,  telephone  di 
rectory,  memorandum  pad,  etc.  Several  comforta 
ble  chairs  are  conveniently  placed,  and  books,  mag 
azines,  flowers,  and  other  evidences  of  refinement 
andtculture  may  be  observed. 

PEGGY  BURTON,  a  tall,  slender,  delicately  im 
pulsive  woman  of  twenty-five,  whose  fair  hair  is 
more  than  tinged  with  red,  and  whose  skin  is  like  a 
rose-leaf,  sits  at  the  telephone,  holding  the  receiver 
to  her  ear.  She  still  wears  her  hat  and  fur  coat, 
holding  her  gloves  in  her  hand,  and  the  details  of  her 
toilet  indicate  to  the  feminine  observer  that  im 
portant  matters  are  afoot. 

At  the  tea-table,  her  friend,  VALERIE  ARMSBY, 
yellow-haired,  brown-eyed,  optimistic,  calm,  lounges 
in  an  easy-chair,  lazily  nibbling  a  biscuit  and 
[121] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

watching  PEGGY.  MRS.  ARMSBY,  also,  is  in  street 
dress. 

PEGGY 

(in  exasperated  tone,  speaking  in  ' 'phone). 
Hello !    .     .     .    Hello,  Central !    .     .     .  Please  give 
me  Main  6373.     .     .     .     (Hangs  up  impatiently 
and  drawls:)  "Line  busy;  call  again."    (Rises  and 
crosses  to  tea-table,  where  she  sits  to  pour  tea. ) 

VALERIE. 

Invariably!  I  never  knew  another  such  popular 
person  as  your  husband  seems  to  be.  I  have  never 
yet  been  able  to  get  him  on  the  'phone  without  wait 
ing.  What  a  mercy  you're  not  j  ealous ! 

PEGGY. 

I  am — of  his  business.  The  woman  never  lived 
who  could  make  Jack  forget  the  office  for  an  hour. 

VALERIE  (lightly). 

Poor,  dear  Tom  was  just  the  other  way.  The 
business  never  existed  that  could  make  him  forget 
for  an  hour  the  last  pretty  woman  he  had  met. 
Heigh-ho ! 

PEGGY  (frankly  inquisitive). 
Were  you  jealous? 

VALERIE. 

I?    (Laughs.)    Not  appreciably  !    What's  the  use ? 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

Besides,  Tom  and  I  were  not  on  the  turtle-dove  or 
der,  you  know — like  Charlie  and  Mabel,  for  in 
stance. 

PEGGY  (laughing). 

Aren't  they  funny !  Have  you  heard  Charlie  talk 
about  his  "better  half"? 

VALERIE. 

Half!  She's  not  a  quarter!  She's  about  a  tenth 
in  their  domestic  economy — and  a  submerged  tenth 
at  that ! 

PEGGY 
(goes    to    the    'phone,    still   laughwig,    and    takes 

down  the  receiver). 

Main  6373,  please.  .  .  .  Hello !  Is  Mr.  Burton 
there?  .  .  .  Yes,  please.  .  .  .  Oh,  hello, 
Jack.  ...  I  called  on  Mrs.  Howard,  and  she 
was  out.  .  .  .  Yes.  So  I  left  a  note  asking 
them  to  dine  with  us  informally  to-night,  at  half 
after  six.  Is  that  right?  .  .  .  Yes.  Then  you'll 
be  home  early?  .  .  .  Oh,  all  right.  Good 
bye.  (Hangs  up  and  returns  to  tea-table.) 

VALERIE  (lazily). 
Who's  Mrs.  Howard? 

PEGGY 

(indifferently,   playing  with  a  biscuit). 
Oh,  I  don't  know.     I've  forgotten.     She's  the  wife 
of  one  of  Jack's  innumerable  clients. 
[123] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Heavens!  Do  you  have  to  entertain  all  Jack's 
clients  ? 

PEGGY  (solemnly). 

Every  one,  my  dear,  especially  if  they  come  from 
the  provinces. 

VALERIE. 
What  on  earth  do  you  do  with  them? 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  if  they  have  children,  it's  easy.  I  just  ask  how 
old  the  children  are.  They  do  the  rest.  Nothing 
entertains  the  average  woman  more  than  to  talk  as 
long  as  she  likes  about  her  offspring. 

VALERIE. 

And  you? 

PEGGY. 

Oh — I  look  intelligent ;  and  at  stated  intervals  I  ask 
questions.  I  have  a  list  of  them  somewhere.  Did 
you  have  much  trouble  while  they  were  teething? 
Have  any  of  them  any  especial  talent  ?  That  one's 
good  for  at  least  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  with 
out  any  further  effort  on  my  part. 

VALERIE  (with  amusement). 
And  if  they  haven't  children? 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Then  it's  a  case  for  ingenuity  in  finding  out  what 
they  have.  Sometimes  it's  a  parrot ;  sometimes  it's 
cats.  Somebody  ought  to  write  a  book  on  the  ad 
ventures  aod  hair-breadth  escapes  of  exploring 
hostesses  seeking  common  ground.  Sometimes 
they'll  talk  only  about  church  affairs.  I  know  all 
the  details  of  all  the  church  scandals  in  all  the  small 
towns  within  five  hundred  miles!  Sometimes  (with 
a  grimace)  they  prefer  to  discuss  literature.  My 
dear,  there  are  still  people  living  who  read  "The 
Duchess" ! 

VALERIE. 
No! 

PEGGY. 

With  these  eyes  I  have  seen  them!  I  have  com 
pared  notes  with  them. 

VALERIE. 

What  a  curious  lot  of  clients  Jack  must  have ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  they're  not  all  like  that !  Bless  you,  no !  We 
had  a  man  here  last  week  who  speaks  all  the  lan 
guages  of  Europe  and  three  Chinese  dialects.  He 
makes  geology  his  fad.  He  talked  for  two  hours 
about  moraines.  Do  you  know  what  a  moraine  is? 
(VALERIE  shakes  her  head. )  Well,  neither  do  I,  but 
[125] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

it  isn't  his  fault,  poor  man !  He  took  great  pains 
with  me. 

VALERIE  (reproachfully). 

And  you  never  told  me  about  this !  Never  asked  me 
to  meet  any  of  these  people — and  yet,  you  claim  to 
be  my  friend ! 

PEGGY. 

But  I  never  know  how  it's  going  to  turn  out.  Some 
times  they  like  to  look  at  pictures — I  find  Mr.  Pipp 
a  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble — and  some 
times  they're  fond  of  music.  Then  I  play  to  them ! 
I  can  imagine  you  sitting  in  the  corner  wearing  a 
rapt  expression  while  I  played  "Rock  of  Ages"  with 
variations,  and  "Monastery  Bells." 

VALERIE. 

Well,  I've  wondered  why  you  kept  those  things  in 
your  music-cabinet. 

PEGGY. 
That's  the  reason. 

VALERIE. 

Peggy,  I've  heard  of  various  instances  of  uncom 
plaining  fortitude,  but  this  is  a  kind  that  com 
mands  my  unqualified  admiration. 

PEGGY  (brightly). 
Oh,   don't  misunderstand!     It  pleases  Jack,  so  I 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

enjoy  it;  but  I  don't  always  remember  all  about 
who's  coming,  you  know.  But  just  think,  Val! 
Jack  says  I'm  the  greatest  help  to  him  in  his  busi 
ness  ;  so,  of  course,  I  like  to  do  it. 

VALERIE. 

Naturally.  Jack's  glossary  of  the  language  of 
compliment  can  contain  nothing  stronger  than  that. 
What  do  you  expect  to-night? 

PEGGY. 

I  don't  know.  That's  the  worst  of  it,  I  never  do 
know.  But  there's  some  sort  of  a  big  deal  on,  and 
it's  ver}'  important  that  this  particular  client — this 
— Mr. — er — Otis  Howard — should  be  conciliated. 
Do  you  want  to  stay  and  see  how  it's  done  ? 

VALERIE. 

I  do. 

PEGGY  (warningly). 
You  may  be  bored. 

VALERIE. 

I'll  take  the  chances. 

PEGGY. 
Very  well  (touches  bell)  ;  on  your  own  head  be  it. 

Enter  KATIE,  a  neat  and  youthful  maid,  of  recent 

Hibernian  extraction. 

[127] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 
Mrs.  Armsby  will  stay  to  dinner,  Katie. 

KATIE. 

Be  the  other  company  comin',  mum? 

PEGGY. 

I  don't  know.  I  haven't  heard,  but  I  think  so. 
They  always  do  come.  You  may  take  the  wraps, 
Katie.  (  VALERIE  and  PEGGY  remove  their  hats  and 
coats  and  give  them  to  KATIE.  VALERIE  goes  to  the 
dressing-table  to  arrange  her  hair.)  Here  are  my 
gloves  and — (looks  about) — I  wonder  what  I  did 
with  my  purse?  (Anxiously  moves  articles  on  the 
table. )  I  certainly  had  it ! 

VALERIE  (powdering  her  nose). 

Anything  in  it?  (KATIE  lays  the  wraps  on  the 
divan  and  helps  PEGGY  search.) 

PEGGY. 

About  a  hundred  dollars  and  all  my  rings. 

VALERIE  {turning  suddenly). 
Good  gracious,  Peggy !     Why  do  you  carry  that 
much   money  about  with   you?      (Rises  and  joins 
in  the  hunt.) 

[128] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Jack  forgot  to  bring  me  my  allowance  yesterday, 
and  I  expected  to  pay  some  bills  this  afternoon,  so 
I  went  to  the  office  and  got  the  money.  What  can 
have  become  of  it? 

VALERIE 

( turning  over  the  papers  on  the  desk  ) . 
Well,  it's  some  comfort  that  the  bills  are  paid ! 

PEGGY 

(huntmg  among  the  cushions  on  the  divan). 
They're  not!  I  went  to  Ethel  Farquhar's  recital 
instead — at  the  Van  Wyke,  you  know.  I  was  there 
to  call  on  this  Mrs. — What's-her-name  ? — of  Jack's, 
and  happened  to  remember  that  it  was  the  day  of 
Ethel's  affair,  so  I  went  in.  (She  turns  her  coat  up 
side  down  and  shakes  it  vigorously,  after  hurriedly 
searching  all  the  pockets.  All  three  women  move 
about  constantly,  looking  in  every  possible  and  im 
possible  place  for  the  purse.) 

VALERIE. 

When  did  you  have  it  last? 

PEGGY. 

I  thought  I  had  it  when  I  came  into  the  house.     I 
must  have  had  it,  for  my  latch-key's  in  it. 
[  129  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

But  don't  you  remember?    Katie  let  us  in. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  so  she  did !    Well,  on  the  car 

VALERIE. 

I  paid  the  fare. 

PEGGY. 
That's  so. 

VALERIE. 

Did  you  buy  anything  after  you  left  the  concert  ? 

PEGGY. 

No,  it  was  just  over  when  I  met  you,  and — I  didn't 
use  my  purse  at  all  after  that,  did  I? 

VALERIE  (decidedly). 

Then  you  must  have  left  it  at  the  recital.  We'll 
telephone  down  and  see  if  it's  been  found.  You're 
sure  you  had  it  when  you  went  in  ? 

PEGGY. 

Must  have  had  it  then.  I  bought  my  ticket  at  the 
door. 

VALERIE 

(searching  for  number  in  telephone  directory). 
What  sort  of  a  purse  was  it  ? 
[130] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Snakeskin,  bound  in  silver,  you  know,  with  my  mon 
ogram  on  a  little  shield.  (She  continues  to  over 
turn  everything  in  the  room. ) 

VALERIE. 

Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  (In 'phone.)  Hello!  .  .  . 
Main  325,  please.  .  .  .  Hello.  ...  Hello ! 
.  .  .  Is  this  the  Van  Wyke?  .  .  .  This  is  Mrs. 
Valerie  Chase  Armsby  speaking.  A  purse  contain 
ing  a  large  sum  of  money  and — (to  PEGGY)  rings, 
you  said  ? 

PEGGY   (nodding). 

All  my  rings.  They  hurt  my  fingers  under  my 
gloves  and  I  took  them  off. 

VALERIE    (in  ' phone). 

And  a  number  of  valuable  rings,  was  lost  during 
Miss  Farquhar's  recital.  Do  you  know  whether  it 
has  been  found?  ...  It  has  not?  .  .  .  Oh, 
it's  not  been  reported?  .  .  .  Will  you  make  some 
inquiry  about  it,  please?  .  .  .  Thank  you. 
.  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Snakeskin,  bound  in  silver, 
with  a  monogram,  M.  G.  B.,  on  a  small  silver  shield. 
The  purse  belongs  to  Mrs.  John  Burton.  .  .  . 
Yes.  Thank  you.  .  .  .  And  will  you  telephone 
as  soon  as  you  find  out,  please?  .  .  .  What's 
your  number,  Peggy? 

[131] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Blue  2801. 

VALERIE  (in  'phone). 

Blue,  two,  eight,  naught,  one.  .  .  .  Eight, 
naught,  one.  .  .  .  That's  it.  Thanks.  (Hangs 
up  receiver.)  Why  on  eaith  don't  you  pay  your 
bills  by  check,  Peggy? 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  I  don't  know.  It's  so  much  trouble.  (The 
door-bell  is  heard.  KATIE  goes  out.)  And  then — 
I  like  to  handle  the  money  somehow.  (Gazes  re 
proachfully  at  'phone. )  Oh,  why  doesn't  that  Van 
Wyke  man  answer? 

VALERIE. 

My  dear  girl !  It  takes  half  an  hour  to  get  a  re 
sponse  to  a  card  at  the  Van  Wyke  when  you're  on 
the  spot.  What  can  you  expect  when  you  tele 
phone  ? 

Enter  KATIE. 

KATIE. 
Miss  Dixon. 

Enter  FREDA  DIXON,  a  tall,  brown-haired,  breezy, 
self-reliant  young  woman  of  twenty-four,  in 
street  dress,  wearing  a  fur  coat  similar  to 
PEGGY'S. 

[132] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY 

(meeting  FREDA  with  both  hands  extended). 
Oh,  Freda,  what  do  you  think  has  happened? 

FREDA  (nodding  to  VALERIE). 
Couldn't  imagine.    What  have  you  lost  now? 

PEGGY  (resentfully). 
What  makes  you  think  I've  lost  anything  ? 

FREDA  (pulling  off  her  gloves). 
That's  the  usual  thing,  isn't  it  ?  You  left  your  boa 
at  Grace's  tea,  your  best  Sunday  handkerchief  at 
my  luncheon,  your  umbrella  on  the  train,  and  your 
purse  under  a  pile  of  chiffons  at  Mayberry's,  all 
within  a  week.  What  is  it  now? 

PEGGY. 

Freda !  You  needn't  be  disagreeable  about  it,  any 
way ! 

FREDA  (breezily). 

I'm  not  disagreeable  about  it,  my  dear.  Quite  the 
contrary  !  Your  delightful  inconsequence  ( taking 
off  her  coat)  is  one  of  your  most  charming  traits, 
and  if  you  failed  to  telephone  down  to  me  to  pick 
up  your  belongings  after  an  affair  at  my  house, 
I'd  be  as  disappointed  as  if — as  if  the  sun  overslept 
and  failed  to  get  up  on  time ! 

(KATIE  picks  up  all  the  wraps  and  goes  out.) 
[133] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Much  you  know  about  whether  the  sun's  up  on  time 
or  not! 

FREDA 

(sitting  at  the  dressing-table  to  arrange  her  hair). 
You  see,  you  furnish  entertainment  and  amusement 
for  us.  You're  invaluable  as  a  discourager  of  en 
nui.  (She  turns  toward  PEGGY,  grandiloquently 
gesticulating  with  the  hand-mirror. )  When  every 
thing  else  fails,  when  the  fickle  pleasures  of  society 
pall  upon  us,  when  friendship  fails  and  love  grows 
cold,  when  everything  turns  to  ashes  except  the  saw 
dust  stuffing  of  our  dollies,  and  that  leaks  out  and 
litters  up  the  carpets,  you  come  to  the  rescue! 
There's  always  something  that  you  have  lost,  and 
in  the  search  for  your  elusive  possessions — the  most 
fascinating  pursuit  known  to  man — the  vanishing 
zest  returns  to  us,  and  life  seems  again  a  golden 
bubble,  created  for  our  amusement.  Why,  Peggy 
dear  (rising,  with  a  sudden  return  to  her  natural 
manner),  you're  a  benefactor  to  the  human  race! 
No  family  should  be  without  you.  I  suggest  that 
you  copyright  yourself  and  charge  a  royalty  for 
the  privilege  of  joining  in  the  chase  of  your  wan 
dering  belongings. 

VALERIE   (drily). 

Well,  I  suggest  that  you  stem  the  torrent  of  your 
[  134  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

eloquence  and  get  down  on  your  knees  and  look  un 
der  the  divan  for  Peggy's  purse.  Anybody  would 
know  your  father  was  a  preacher!  What  a  pity 
(laughing)  that  only  his  vocabulary  descended  to 
you! 

FREDA 
(obediently  getting  on  her  knees  to  look  under  the 

divan). 

Oh,  it's  the  purse  again,  is  it?  Have  you  tried 
Mayberry's  ? 

PEGGY. 

No,  I  haven't  been  there.  You  see,  I  went  to  Ethel 
Farquhar's  recital  at  the  Van  Wyke,  and — girls! 
I  believe  my  pocket  was  picked ! 

FREDA  (still  on  her  knees). 
Anything  in  it  except  samples? 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  a  hundred  dollars  and  all  my  rings. 

FREDA 

(suddenly  subsiding  into  a  heap  on  the  floor). 
Ye  gods ! 

PEGGY  (excitedly). 

And  there  was  a  woman  sitting  next  me — a  sort 
of  elaborate  person,  you  know — and  when  my  coat 

fell  down  she  picked  it  up 

[  135  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE. 

Fell  down  where? 

PEGGY. 

Slid  off  my  lap,  you  know — she  picked  it  up,  and  I 
noticed  that  she  was  very  awkward  about  it — 
fussed  and  fumbled  a  whole  lot,  you  know,  but  it 
never  occurred  to  me  that  she  was  picking  my 
pocket ! 

FREDA  (joining  PEGGY  and  VALERIE). 
What  sort  of  a  woman  was  she  ? 

PEGGY. 

She  had  on  an  elegant  brown  tailor  suit,  made  with 
a  seven-gored  skirt,  and  a  jacket  trimmed  with  ap 
plique,  opening  over  a  cream-coloured  wool  waist ;  a 
brown  hat,  trimmed  with  folds  of  panne  velvet, 
with  a  very  little  gold  on  it,  and  brown  gloves.  Her 
hair  was  yellow. 

VALERIE. 
Plated? 

PEGGY. 

N-no,  I  rather  think  it  was  genuine.  And  she  had 
a  lovely  complexion. 

FREDA. 

Doesn't  sound  bad. 

VALERIE. 

How  old  was  she? 

[136] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Thirty-five,  perhaps. 

VALERIE. 
Tall? 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  and  slender — a  beautiful  figure. 

FREDA. 

In  fact,  very  attractive. 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  she  was  attractive.     I  wondered  who  she  was. 

VALERIE. 

Alone? 

PEGGY. 

No,  she  had  some  one  with  her.  They  seemed,  from 
their  conversation,  to  be  staying  in  the  hotel.  (  The 
telephone  bell  rings  and  PEGGY  goes  to  the  'phone. ) 
Hello.  .  .  .  Yes.  ...  Oh,  the  Van  Wyke ! 
Did  you  find  it?  .  .  .  (Anxious  lines  appear  in 
her  face.)  Have  you  made  a  very  careful  search? 
Oh,  girls,  they  can't  find  it !  (She  sinks  back  in  her 
chair  and  VALERIE  goes  quickly  to  the  'phone,  tak 
ing  the  receiver  from  PEGGY'S  relaxed  fingers.) 

VALERIE  (in  'phone). 

You're  certain  it  wasn't  found?     .     .     .     The  em- 
[137] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ployees  are  entirely  trustworthy?  .  .  .  Yes. 
Thank  you.  Good-bye.  (Hangs  up.)  Well,  now 
what  are  we  going  to  do? 

PEGGY  (tearfully). 

I  wouldn't  mind  the  money  so  much — though  that's 
bad  enough! — but  my  rings!  My — my  engage 
ment  ring,  too!  (Sobs.)  How  can  I  ever  tell 
Jack! 

FREDA  (sitting  at  the  tea-table). 

Oh,  now  don't  give  up,  Peggy!  We've  not  ex 
hausted  "the  bright  lexicon  of  youth''  yet.  Have 
you  looked  in  your  coat? 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  in  every  pocket.  I  held  it  upside  down  and 
shook  it!  (The  door-bell  rings.) 

FREDA. 

And  you  haven't  any  pocket  in  your  gown  ? 

PEGGY  (indignantly). 

Good  gracious,  no !  Do  I  look  like  a  woman  who'd 
wear  a  gown  it  was  possible  to  put  a  pocket  in? 
(She  weeps  disconsolately,  and  the  others  look  in  all 
sorts  of  absurd  places  for  the  purse. ) 

FREDA. 

Well,  suppose  the  woman  did  take  it?    What  then? 
[  138  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE  (uncertainly). 

I  suppose  we  might  trace  her.     Shall  we  report  it 
to  the  police? 

Enter  KATIE. 

KATIE. 
Mrs.  Dover. 

VALERIE. 

Here  comes  the  submerged  tenth ! 

Enter  MABEL  DOVER,  a  small,  dark,  smiling,  impet 
uous  young  woman,  from  whose  modish  rai 
ment  an  occasional  belated  grain  of  rice  still 
exudes. 

MABEL  (radiantly). 

Oh,  girls,  how  jolly  to  find  you  all  here!     Why, 

Peggy,  what's  the  matter? 

PEGGY 

(with  a  fresh  burst  of  tears). 
I — I've  lost  m-m-my  rings ! 

MABEL. 

Your  rings!     Were  they  stolen? 

PEGGY. 

N-no — at  least — I  don't  know. 

VALERIE. 

She  put  her  rings  in  her  purse 

[139] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Be-because     they     hurt     my     fingers     under     my 

gloves 

FREDA. 
And  then  she  lost  her  purse  at  Ethel's  recital. 

PEGGY. 

That  is,  I  think  I  lost  it. 

FREDA. 

There  was  a  woman  sitting  next  her 

PEGGY. 

A  very  queer  sort  of  woman ! 

VALERIE. 

Who  picked  up  her  purse  when  she  dropped  it,  and 

she  thinks 

PEGGY. 
I'm  sure  she  picked  my  pocket ! 

MABEL. 

How  awful ! 

FREDA  (doubtfully). 

She  seems  to  have  been  a  very  well-dressed  sort  of 
woman. 

MABEL   (shaking  her  head). 

Charlie   says   that    sometimes    the   most   desperate 

[  140  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

criminals  are  very  well  groomed — gamblers,  and 
that  sort  of  thing,  you  know. 

VALERIE  ( thoughtfully  ) . 

Yes,  I  suppose  that's  so.  Perhaps  we'd  better  re 
port  it  to  the  police. 

MABEL. 

Charlie  says  that  the  police  rarely  accomplish  much 
in  matters  of  this  sort. 

FREDA. 

Well,  it's  all  we  can  do,  it  seems  to  me. 

MABEL. 

Charlie  says  that  if  we  were  robbed,  he'd  rather  un 
dertake  the  recovery  of  the  things  himself  than 
trust  to  the  police.  They're  so  slow  and  so  stupid ! 

VALERIE  (with  spirit). 

Well,  Mabel,  we  can't  very  well  start  out  in  pur 
suit  of  Peggy's  purse,  can  we  ? 

MABEL. 

N-no,  I  suppose  not.  But  I'll  tell  Charlie  to  keep 
a  sharp  look-out  in  the  shops — what  is  it  they  call 
them?  Hedges? 

FREDA  (concealing  a  smile). 
You  mean  fences. 

[141] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Yes,  that's  it !  Fences — and  maybe  he  can  identify 
Peggy's  rings.  (PEGGY  bursts  into  tears  and  drops 
into  a  chair. ) 

FREDA. 

Yes,  but  even  Charlie  would  have  difficulty  in  iden 
tifying  Peggy's  money. 

MABEL. 

Money  !    Was  there  money,  too? 

PEGGY. 

Y-y-yes,  a — a  hundred  dollars ! 

MABEL. 

Why,  Peggy  Burton  !  I  never  carry  so  much  money 
about  with  me.  Charlie  says  it's  so  foolish,  for 
women  are  always  losing  things. 

PEGGY. 

I  don't  care  so  much  about  the  money.  I  can  make 
that  up  somehow;  b-b-but  my  rings — o-o-oh,  my 
rings ! 

FREDA  (soothingly,  joining  her). 

Why,  Peggy,  dear,  Jack  would  buy  you  a  dozen 
rings  rather  than  have  you  grieve  over  them  this 
way. 

[142] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY  (sobbing  unrestrainedly). 
Y-yes,   I   know!      That's   the   worst   of   it!      But 
th-th-they'd  never  be  those  rings.    I  can  never  have 
another  enga-a-agement  ring !    And  how — how  can 
ItellJack! 

FREDA. 

If  we  succeed  in  finding  the  purse,  there  will  be  no 
necessity  of  bothering  Jack  about  it  at  all. 

PEGGY  (a  little  more  hopefully). 
Yes,  that's  so. 

MABEL  (  disapprovingly ) . 

Why,  Peggy  !  Would  you  have  secrets  from  Jack  ? 
Charlie  says  that  a  woman's  first  secret  from  her 
husband  is  her  first  step  toward  unfaithfulness. 

VALERIE. 

Ergo,  every  time  the  laundry  fails  to  send  home  a 
sheet,  hubby  must  hear  of  it!  I  suppose  he  says, 
also,  that  a  considerate  husband  never  distresses  his 
wife  with  the  troubles  incident  to  a  man's  large 
affairs  ? 

MABEL  (innocently). 
Why,  yes !    How  did  you  know  ? 

VALERIE    (drily). 

Oh,  I'm  psychic,  and — I  just  know  things.     Be 
sides,  I  had  a  husband  once. 
[143] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

MABEL. 
Was  he  like  that? 

VALERIE. 

Yes — in  the  early  stages. 

MABEL  (hesitatingly). 
Do — do  you  mean  that  he — changed? 

VALERIE. 

Well,  he  progressed ;  graduated,  as  it  were. 

MABEL. 

You  mean  that  he  got  so  he  didn't — care? 

VALERIE. 

About  the  sheets  ?  Not  in  the  least !  But  he  cared 
very  much  not  to  be  bothered. 

MABEL  (sympathetically). 

Poor  Val !  It  must  be  so  hard  when  it's  like  that ! 
Now,  Charlie  says  that  it's  the  sharing  of  all  the 
dear  little  details  that  makes  married  life  so  sweet. 

VALERIE. 

That  is,  all  your  dear  little  details.     Of  course,  his 

MABEL   (eagerly). 
Yes,  that's  it!     His  are — are — well,  you  know,  a 

man's  business  is — is 

[144] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE  (lightly). 

Oh,  well,  Charlie's  in  the  primary  department. 
There  are  several  grades  ahead  of  him  yet. 

MABEL  (earnestly). 

Oh,  no,  you  don't  understand,  Val!  Charlie  will 
never  change. 

FREDA. 

Well,  I  don't  see  that  Charlie's  constancy  is  going 
to  help  us  find  Peggy's  purse.  The  question  before 
the  house  is,  what  next? 

MABEL. 

Don't  you  think  we'd  better  tell  Jack,  Peggy  ? 

FREDA. 

Not  until  we've  exhausted  our  own  resources. 
That's  the  trouble  with  women.  They're  always 
flying  to  a  man  for  relief,  without  testing  their  own 
powers  at  all.  I  think  we'd  better  notify  the  police. 

VALERIE. 

Consistent  Freda?  She  wouldn't  fly  to  a  man  for 
relief! 

FREDA. 

My  dear  girl,  the  Police  Department  is  not  a  man ; 

it's  an  institution,  and  one  of  our  legitimate  re- 

[145] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

sources.     I'm  going  to  call  them  up.     (She  goes  to 
the  telephone  and  takes  up  the  directory. ) 

PEGGY  (with  a  fresh  outburst  of  sobs). 
Oh,  no,  no,  no  !    Don't,  Freda !    Don't ! 

VALERIE,  FREDA,  MABEL. 

Why  not? 

VALERIE. 

Don't  you  want  them  notified,  Peggy? 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  no !    It  seems  so — so  public,  you  know ! 

FREDA 

(hunting  in  the  directory  for  a  number). 
But  if  the  woman  stole  your  purse 

VALERIE. 

And  your  money 

FREDA. 

And  your  rings 

PEGGY. 

Oh — well — go  on!      (Dolefully.)      I  suppose  it's 
the  only  way,  but  (shuddering) — it  seems  horrible! 
(MABEL  dubiously  shakes  her  head.) 
[146] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

FREDA 

(running  her  finger  down  the  page). 
C,  e,  .  .  .  c,  i,  .  .  .  c,  h, — here  it  is! 
(In  'phone.)  Main  65,  please.  .  .  .  Yes. 
.  .  .  Hello.  Is  that  the  Chief  of  Police? 
...  I  want  to  report  the  loss  of  a  purse  belong 
ing  to  Mrs.  John  Burton  at  Miss  Farquhar's  recital 
at  the  Van  Wyke  this  afternoon.  .  .  .  We  have 
made  inquiries,  and  it  has  not  been  found.  .  . 
A  very  suspicious-looking  woman  sat  next  Mrs. 
Burton,  and  we  think  she  may  have  picked  the  pock 
et  of  Mrs.  Burton's  coat.  .  .  .  No,  this  is  Miss 
Freda  Dixon  speaking.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  Very 
well.  Peggy,  he  wants  to  talk  to  you. 

PEGGY 

(backing  away  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room). 
Oh,  no !  I  can't  talk  to  him ! 

VALERIE. 

Nonsense,  Peggy !  Don't  be  a  goose !  He's  only  a 
man,  and  he's  two  miles  away!  (PEGGY  is  pushed 
to  the  'phone,  where  she  reluctantly  takes  the  re 
ceiver.  ) 

PEGGY  (timidly,  in  'phone). 
Hello.  .  .  .  Hello  (sob.)  .  .  .  Hello! 
.  .  .  HELLO!  ...  Yes!  ...  (sob.) 
This  is  Mrs.  Burton.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  No, 
but  I  think  she  was  staying  at  the  Van  Wyke. 
[147] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

.  .  .  Well,  I  dropped  my  coat,  you  know, 
and  she  picked  it  up,  and  she  was  very 
slow  and  awkward  about  it,  but  it  didn't  occur 
to  me,  at  the  time,  that  she  was  picking  my 
pocket.  .  .  .  Yes,  a  hundred  dollars  and  all 
my  rings  (sob),  and  one  of  them  w-w-was  my  en- 
ga-agement  ring.  (FREDA  makes  a  restraining 
gesture. )  .  .  .  Five.  I  took  them  off  and  put 
them  in  my  purse,  you  know,  because — what? 
.  .  .  Snakeskin,  bound  in  silver,  with  my  mono 
gram,  M.  G.  B.,  on  a  small  silver  shield.  .  .  . 
Well,  she  was  a  very  queer-looking  person.  . 
Very  elaborately  dressed.  .  .  .  She  had  on  a 
brown  tailor  gown  (rapidly),  made  with  a  seven- 
gored  skirt,  and  a  jacket  with  applique  trimmings, 
opening  over  a  vest  of — what  ?  .  .  .  Well,  but  I 
want  to  tell  you  how  she  was  dressed.  .  .  .  Brown 
suit,  yes.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Yes,  a  brown 
hat,  trimmed  with  folds  of  panne  velvet  and  a  gold 
— what?  .  .  .  Blond.  Her  hair  was  quite  yel 
low.  (She  continues  nodding  and  replying  to  ques 
tions  over  the  'phone. ) 

MABEL 

(complacently  patting  her  own  dark  locks). 

Charlie  says  he  never  quite  trusts  a  woman  with  yel 
low  hair. 

[148] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE  (the  golden-haired). 
Really? 

MABEL. 

Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Val !  I  didn't  think !  Of 
course,  Charlie  didn't  mean — that  is,  he  wouldn't 
think  of  saying  anything  like  that  about  any  one 
he  knew,  you  know  ! 

VALERIE   (good-naturedly). 

Oh,  we  all  know  that  Charlie's  never  looked  at  any 
one  of  us  long  enough  to  know  what  colour  our  hair 
is.  (MABEL  smiles  complacently.) 

PEGGY  (in  'phone). 

And  if  you  find  her — oh,  you  won't  arrest  her,  will 
you  ? 

FREDA. 
Why,  you  goose,  of  course  they'll  arrest  her ! 

PEGGY  (in  'phone). 

Oh,  no,  I— I 

FREDA. 

You  want  your  rings,  don't  you,  Peggy? 

PEGGY  (in  'phone). 
I  just  want  my  rings,  you  know. 

VALERIE. 

Don't  you  want  your  money? 
[149] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY  (in  'phone). 
And  my  money. 

FREDA. 

Peggy,  don't  you  interfere  with  the  Police  Depart 
ment.  You  let  them  go  ahead  their  own  way. 

PEGGY  (to  her). 

But  it's  so  awful!  Think  of  being  arrested!  (In 
'phone.)  What?  .  .  .  Oh,  well — very  well.  I 
(sob) — I  must  have  my  rings.  You'll  get  my  en 
gagement  ring  for  me,  anyway,  won't  you  ?  .  .  . 
Yes.  Good-bye.  (Hangs  up  slowly.)  Oh,  girls, 
isn't  this  awful ! 

VALERIE 

(joining  PEGGY  at  'phone). 

Now,  I  think  we  ought  to  tell  the  hotel  people 
about  it. 

MABEL  (across  the  room). 
Well,  7  think  you  ought  to  tell  your  husband! 

PEGGY 

(doubtfully,   to  VALERIE,  ignoring  MABEL). 
Oh,  do  you? 

VALERIE. 

Yes,  for  if  they  have  a  pickpocket  among  their 
guests,  they  ought  to  know  it. 

FREDA. 

That's  so. 

[150] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 
PEGGY. 

Yes,  I  suppose  that  is  so. 

FREDA  (significantly). 
You  tell  them,  then,  Val. 

PEGGY  (quickly). 

No,  I'll  tell  them.  (VALERIE  and  FREDA  exchange 
glances  of  amused  exasperation.  PEGGY  takes  re 
ceiver.)  Main  325,  please.  .  .  .  Hello.  Van 
Wyke? 

VALERIE. 
Ask  for  Mr.  Collins,  the  clerk. 

PEGGY. 

I'd  like  to  speak  to  Mr.  Collins,  please.  .  .  .  Hel 
lo.  Mr.  Collins?  .  .  .  This  is  Mrs.  John  Burton 
speaking.  I — I  have  very  unpleasant  news  for  you, 
Mr.  Collins. 

FREDA. 

Oh,  good  gracious,  Peggy,  don't  try  to  break  it  to 
him  gently! 

(During  the  ensuing  speech  FREDA  and  VALERIE, 
by  frowns  and  smiles  and  little  quick,  impa 
tient  gestures,  indicate  their  mingled  amuse 
ment  and  irritation.) 

[151] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY  (in  'phone). 

My  pocket  was  picked  at  Miss  Farquhar's  recital 
this  afternoon,  and  I  lost  my  purse  and  a  hundred 
dollars  and  all  my  rings.  One  of  them  was  my  en 
gagement  ring,  you  know.  I  took  them  off  and  put 
them  in  my  purse  because — what?  .  .  .  Thank 
you.  But  that's  not  all.  It  was  done  by  a  woman 
who  is  staying  in  the  hotel.  .  .  .  Yes.  She  sat 
next  me,  and  picked  up  my  coat  when  I  dropped  it, 
you  know,  and  she  was  very  slow  and  awkward  about 
it  (with  mechanical  rapidity),  but  it  didn't  occur 
to  me  at  the  time  that  she  was  picking  my  pocket. 
.  .  .  Yes,  I'm  quite  sure,  for  she  said  something 
to  her  friend  about  going  up  to  her  room  before  they 
went  out.  .  .  .  No  (impatiently),  I  don't  know 
who  she  was,  of  course,  but  she  wore  a  brown  tailor 
suit,  made  with  a  seven-gored  skirt,  and  a  jack 
et  with  applique  trimmings,  opening  over  a — 
what  ?  .  .  .  She  was  tall  and  slender,  with  yellow 
hair — suspiciously  yellow  hair! — and  she  wore  a 
brown  hat  trimmed  with  folds  of  panne  vel — 
— what?  .  .  .  Oh,  I  assure  you  there  can  be 
no  mistake.  I  have  looked  everywhere  for  the 
purse  and  it's  not  to  be  found.  I  haven't  had  it 
since  I  left  the  recital  hall.  (To  the  girls.)  The 
idea  !  As  if  I'd  take  all  this  trouble  unless  I  knew ! 
(In  'phone,  with  dignity.)  And  I  hope  you'll  take 
steps  to  recover  my  property  for  me,  Mr.  Collins. 
[  152  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

.  .  .  Yes.  Thank  you.  I  thought  you'd  be  glad 
to  know,  for  the  protection  of  your  other  guests, 
that  you  had  a  desperate  character  in  the  house. 
.  .  .  Yes.  Good-bye.  (Hangs  up.)  He  says 
he'll  make  some  inquiries  and  find  out  whether  any 
one  answering  that  description  is  staying  there. 

Enter  KATIE. 

KATIE. 

There's  a  lady  below,  Mrs.  Burton,  sayin'  she's  a 
date  wid  ye.  Miss  Evans,  she  is. 

PEGGY. 

Miss  Evans  ?    Miss  Evans ! 

FREDA. 

Oh,  she's  the  reporter  for  the  Top  Crest,  don't, 
you  remember?  You  promised  to  tell  her  about 
the  favours  and  things  for  the  cotillion  to-morrow 
night. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  so  I  did !    What  shall  I  do  ? 

VALERIE. 

Let  her  come  up.    We'll  all  tell  her,  and  it  will  kill 
time  until  we  hear  something  about  the  purse. 
[153] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

Bring  Miss  Evans  up  here,  Katie.     (Exit  KATIE.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  girls,  do  you  suppose  that  horrid  policeman  will 
find  my  rings? 

MABEL. 

Charlie  says  he  never  knew  a  policeman  to  find  any 
thing  he  was  looking  for,  or  to  be  anywhere  he  was 
wanted. 

PEGGY. 

How  soon  do  you  think  we  might  hear? 

FREDA. 

Oh,  it  may  be  several  hours. 

PEGGY. 

Hours!  Why,  Jack  will  be  home — what  time  is  it? 
— Jack  may  be  home  any  minute  now,  and — oh, 
dear,  girls,  how  can  I  ever  face  him?  Oh,  I  can't 
wait  hours!  I'll  just  call  up  that  Chief  of  Police 
and  tell  him  he  must  find  that  purse  within  half  an 
hour,  or  I'll 

Enter  Miss  EVANS,  a  small,  brisk,  inquisitive  per 
son,  behind  whose  round  black  eyes  a  pano 
ramic  lens  is  in  constant  operation. 
[154] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY   (vaguely). 

Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Miss  Evans?  Miss  Evans  (in 
troducing),  Mrs.  Armsby,  Mrs.  Dover,  Miss  Dixon. 

Enter  KATIE,  with  a  note. 

KATIE. 

Here's  a  note  that's  just  come  for  ye,  mum.  A  boy 
from  the  Van  Wyke  brought  it.  (Hands  note  to 
PEGGY  and  goes  out. ) 

PEGGY,  VALERIE,  FREDA,  MABEL. 

From  the  Van  Wyke ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  girls,  do  you  suppose  they've  found  it? 

(The  girls  all  crowd  together,  looking  at  the  note 
over  PEGGY'S  shoulder,  leaving  Miss  EVANS  a 
keen  and  unnoticed  observer  of  the  scene.) 

MABEL. 

Perhaps  they  want  you  to  come  down  there  and 
identify  the  woman. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  I  couldn't !  Oh,  girls,  do  you  suppose  they'll 
make  me  do  that? 

VALERIE. 

Perhaps  it's  only  the  purse  they  want  you  to  iden 
tify. 

[  155  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
PEGGY  (reading). 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Burton :  I  am  very  sorry  to  have 

missed "  what  under  the  sun  !     ( She  glances  at 

the  signature. )  "Elizabeth  Deane  Howard !"  Oh, 
it  isn't  from  the  hotel  people  at  all!  It's  from 
Jack's  woman ! 

MABEL. 
Jack's  woman ! 

VALERIE. 
Mrs.  Otis  Howard ! 

PEGGY. 

And  I  was  so  happy.  I  was  so  sure  it  had  been 
found!  (She  plaintively  wipes  her  eyes.) 

VALERIE. 

What  does  she  say? 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  I  don't  know !    Read  it. 

VALERIE 

(glancing  over  the  letter). 

Sorry  to  have  missed  your  call.  So  kind  of  you  to 
ask  them  to  dinner.  Accept  with  pleasure  (PEGGY 
groans).  And  as  the  men  are  coming  directly  from 
the  office,  she  will  adopt  Mr.  Burton's  suggestion 
and  come  rather  early,  and — she's  yours  very  cor 
dially. 

[156] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  how  can  I  talk  to  stupid  old  clients  when  I'm 
in  such  trouble! 

MISS  EVANS  (to  VALERIE). 
Mrs.  Burton  has  met  with  a  loss? 

PEGGY  (sobbing). 

Oh,  yes,  a  great  loss!  (FREDA  frowns  warningly 
at  her.)  My  pocket  was  picked  this  afternoon  at 
Miss  Farquhar's  recital,  and  she  took  my  purse  and 
my  money  and  all  my  rings. 

MISS    EVANS. 
Your  rings ! 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  I  took  them  off,  you  know,  because  they  hurt 
my  fingers  under  my  gloves,  and  put  them  in  my 
purse.  And  one  of  them  was  my  engagement  ring ! 
(She  weeps.) 

MISS    EVANS. 
Has  she  any  idea  who  took  it? 

FREDA  (evasively). 
Well,  one  never  can  be  sure,  you  know. 

MABEL  (eagerly). 
Oh,  yes,  there  was  a  dreadful  woman  sitting  next 

her 

[157] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

And  she  picked  up  my  coat  when  I  dropped  it 

(  FREDA  tries  by  frowns  and  signals  to  stop  them. ) 

VALERIE. 

And  of  course  it's  quite  possible  that  she 


MISS    EVANS. 

What  sort  of  a  woman  was  she? 

MABEL. 

Oh,  a  very  showy  sort  of  woman 

PEGGY. 

With  yellow  hair 

VALERIE. 

And  a  brown  suit 

PEGGY. 

Made  with  a  seven-gored  skirt 

MABEL. 

And  a  jacket  trimmed  with  applique— 

PEGGY. 

Opening  over  a  vest  of  cream-coloured- 

MABEL. 

And  a  brown  hat 

[158] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY. 

Trimmed  with  folds  of  panne  velvet 


FREDA  (with  decision). 

Miss  Evans  is  a  very  busy  woman,  girls,  and  she 
came  up  here  to  learn  about  the  cotillion. 

MISS    EVANS. 

Oh,  I  assure  you,  I'm  very  much  interested.     And 
she  sat  next  you,  you  say  ? 

PEGGY. 

And    she's    evidently    a    guest    in    the    hotel,    be 
cause 

MABEL. 
And  we've  notified  the  hotel  people  to  keep  an  eye 

on  her 

VALERIE. 

Because,  you  know  she  might  make  them  a  great 
deal  of  trouble. 

PEGGY. 

And  the  police  are  looking  for  her;  and  oh,  Miss 
Evans,  do  you  think  they'll  find  my  rings  ? 

MISS  EVANS. 

I  think  it's  very  likely. 

MABEL. 

Charlie — mv   husband — says   that    the   police   are 
[  159  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

very  slow  and  stupid,  and  that  unless  one  has  what 
he  calls  a  "pull" 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  I  wish  I  had  a  pull !  Miss  Evans,  do  you  know 
any  one  who  has  a  pull? 

MISS    EVANS. 

Sometimes  we  newspaper  people  are  able  to  accom 
plish  things  that  baffle  the  police,  Mrs.  Burton. 
I'll  see  what  I  can  do  for  you. 

PEGGY. 

Will  you  ?    Oh,  thank  you,  Miss  Evans ! 

FREDA 

(stepping  between  PEGGY  and  the  reporter,  with  an 

authoritative  manner). 

I  don't  think  we  need  to  trouble  Miss  Evans,  Peg 
gy.  She  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  very  busy  woman,  and 
we  ought  not  to  ask  her  to  go  outside  the  line  of  her 
regular  duties;  and,  of  course  (significantly),  this 
matter  can  be  of  no  possible  use  to  Miss  Evans  pro 
fessionally.  (Miss  EVANS  puts  the  suggestion 
aside  with  a  gesture.) 

PEGGY. 

Well,  I'm  sure,  Freda,  it's  very  kind  of  Miss  Evans 

to  offer  to  help  me.     If  you'd  lost  your  rings — 

[  160  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

only  you  haven't  an  engagement  ring — you'd  ap 
preciate  people  who  really  offered  to  do  something, 
instead  of  just  standing  around  waiting! 

FREDA  (calmly). 

And  in  the  meantime  Miss  Evans  is  standing  around 
waiting  to  see  the  cotillion  favours. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  that's  true.  They're  in  the  chiffonier  in  the 
guest-roorn.  We'll  go  and  see  them.  Will  you 
come  this  way,  Miss  Evans  ? 

(Exeunt  all  except  MABEL,  who  lingers.  When  the 
others  are  gone,  she  hurries  to  the  telephone, 
radiant  with  anticipatory  smiles.) 

MABEL  (in  'phone). 

Main  781.  .  .  .  Hello.  That  you,  dearest? 
.  .  .  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon!  Is  my  husband 
there?  .  .  .  Mrs.  Dover,  yes.  .  .  .  Thank 
you.  .  .  .  Oh,  hello,  darling.  How  do  you  feel, 
dear?  .  .  .  That's  good.  .  .  .  Yes,  I'm  all 
right,  only  we're  in  such  a  lot  of  trouble.  .  .  . 
What?  .  .  .  Oh,  no,  Peggy,  I  mean.  .  .  . 
Yes,  I'm  at  Peggy's,  and  oh,  Charlie,  dear,  such 
a  dreadful  thing  has  happened!  .  .  .  Well 
[161] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

(settling  herself  for  a  long  talk),  Peggy  went 
to  Ethel  Farquhar's  recital  at  the  Van  Wyke  this 
afternoon,  and  a  dreadful  woman  who  sat  next  her 
stole  her  pocketbook  and  all  her  rings,  and,  oh, 
Charlie,  one  of  them  was  her  engagement  ring! 
And  there  was  a  hundred  dollars  in  her  purse ! 
.  .  .  That's  what  I  told  her.  So  foolish !  And 
poor  Peggy  has  been  crying  all  the  afternoon,  and 
she's  going  to  have  company  to  dinner,  and  oh,  it's 
awful !  .  .  .  Why,  she  dropped  her  coat  and  the 
woman  picked  it  up  for  her,  and  she  knows  she  must 
have  taken  it,  for  she  hasn't  had  it  since,  and  it  was 
in  her  coat-pocket.  Besides,  the  woman  was  a  horrid 
sort  of  person,  with  bleached  hair,  you  know,  and 
all  that.  And,  oh,  Charlie,  dear,  can't  you  do 
something?  .  .  .  Peggy  doesn't  want  to  tell 
Jack.  ...  I  know.  We  wouldn't  feel  that  way 
about  it,  would  we,  darling?  Your  wifie  would  go 
to  you  first,  wouldn't  she  ?  .  .  .  Well,  you  might 
go  to  the  hotel  and  see  if  you  can  find  the  woman. 
She's  staying  at  the  Van  Wyke.  .  .  .  Peggy 
heard  her  say  so.  ...  They've  notified  the 
police.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  told  them  you  said  that, 
but  they  went  right  ahead,  just  the  same.  And 
the  clerk  of  the  hotel  has  been  told.  But  I 
want  you  to  go  right  up  to  the  Van  Wyke  and  find 
out  who  this  woman  is,  and  see  her  yourself.  I  know 
you  can  make  her  give  up  the  purse  and  the  rings 
[162] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

and  things,  and  poor  Peggy's  so  unhappy  about  it. 
.  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Well,  she's  tall  and  slender, 
and  wears  a  brown  tailor  suit,  made  with  a — what? 
.  .  .  Oh,  all  right.  .  .  .  Ready?  .  .  . 
Tall  and  slender  —  got  that  ?  And 

bleached  hair.  .  .  .  And  she  wears  a  brown 
tailor  suit,  made  with  a  seven-gored  skirt.  •. 
What?  ...  A  seven-gored  skirt. 
Yes ;  and  a  j  acket  trimmed  with  applique  .  .  . 
Applique  .  .  .  A,  p,  p,  1,  i,  q,  u,  e.  .  .  . 
Oh,  it's  trimming,  cut  out  and  then  sewed  on,  you 
know.  .  .  .  No,  not  ruffled.  Sewed  on  flat 
— a  sort  of  passementerie.  You  know  what  pas 
sementerie  is,  don't  you,  dear?  .  .  .  Oh,  well, 
never  mind.  It's  trimmed,  you  know,  not  plain 
like  mine.  .  .  .  And  a  brown  hat — got  that? 
.  .  .  Trimmed  with  folds  of  panne  velvet.  .  .  . 
Panne.  .  .  .  P,  a,  double  n,  e.  .  .  .  Why, 
it's — it's — oh,  never  mind  !  Just  put  down  a  brown 
hat.  And  when  you  find  her,  you'll  just  talk  to  her, 
won't  you,  dear?  .  .  .  Oh,  thank  you  so  much !  I 
won't  tell  Peggy  that  I  asked  you.  I'll  let  you  sur 
prise  her !  She'll  be  so  happy !  .  Oh,  you 
dear!  I'm  always  happy  since  I  have  you !  .  .  . 
Yes.  Good-bye,  dear. —  Oh,  Charlie !  ...  Be 
home  pretty  soon  ?  .  .  Oh,  of  course !  Well, 
as  soon  as  you  get  the  rings  and  things  you'll 
'phone  me,  won't  you  ?  .  .  .  No,  Peggy's  going 
[163] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

to  have  guests  for  dinner,  so  I  won't  stay  here 
and  wait  for  you.  .  .  .  Yes.  Good-bye,  dar 
ling!  There! 

(Hangs  up,  sighing  contentedly,  rises  and  goes  to 
dressing-table,  as  PEGGY,  Miss  EVANS,  FREDA, 
and  VALERIE  enter,  all  talking  at  once.) 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  they're  quite  the  prettiest  favours  of  the  sea 
son. 

VALERIE. 
Oh,  Mabel,  why  didn't  you  come? 

MISS   EVANS 
(glancmg  at  her  notes). 

Thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Burton.  I  think  I 
have  everything  now. 

Enter  KATIE  with  a  card,  which  she  gives  to  PEGGY. 

PEGGY   (in  tones  of  apprehension). 
Mrs.  Preston  Ashley!     (Turns  to  MABEL.) 

VALERIE. 

Good  gracious!     (Miss  EVANS  grows  more  alert.) 

FREDA  (distinctly). 

Yes,  I  think  that's  everything,  Miss  Evans.  Sorry 
we  detained  you  so  long.  Good  afternoon.  Miss 
Evans  is  going,  Peggy. 

[164] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY 

(perfunctorily,  in  the  midst  of  an  excited  confer 
ence  with  MABEL). 
Oh,  good  afternoon,  Miss  Evans. 

(Miss  EVANS,  having  no  recourse,  makes  reluctant 
adieux  and  departs,  followed  by  KATIE.) 

PEGGY. 

What  on  earth  shall  I  do?     Anybody  can  see  that 
I've  been  crying! 

FREDA. 
Send  down  word  you're  not  at  home. 

PEGGY. 

I  don't  dare.     She'll  see  Miss  Evans  going  out,  and 
she'd  never  forgive  me. 

VALERIE. 

Then  have  her  come  up  here.    We'll  do  what  we  can 
to  protect  you. 

Enter  KATIE. 

PEGGY. 

Well — bring  her  up  here,  Katie.     (Exit  KATIE.) 

FREDA. 

Now,  listen  to  me,  girls.     Not  one  word  of  this 
[  165  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

business  to  Bertha  Ashley.  She'd  spread  it  broad 
cast. 

VALERIE. 
Heavens,  no!     Not  a  whisper! 

FREDA. 

Though  it  doesn't  make  much  difference  who 
knows  it,  now  that  Evelyn  Evans  has  her  talons 
in  it. 

PEGGY. 

I  think  you  were  horrid  to  Miss  Evans,  Freda.  She 
was  so  kind  about  offering  to  find  my  rings ! 

FREDA. 

I  wonder  how  you'll  like  it  when  the  whole  story  ap 
pears  in  the  Top  Crest,  with  your  picture,  and 
the  woman's — if  they  find  her — and  all  our  names, 
and  everything? 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  she  wouldn't  publish  it ! 

FREDA. 

Oh,  wouldn't  she  !  This  is  just  to  her  taste  !  Don't 
you  know  about  her  ?  She's  the  woman  who  wormed 
the  whole  story  of  the  Custis  boys'  quarrel  out  of 
Johnny  Custis's  wife,  in  confidence,  and  then  wrote 
it  up,  with  embellishments,  for  the  Top  Crest. 
(Chorus  of  ejaculations.)  She's  the  woman  who 
[166] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

furnished  the  first  report  of  the  Eaton  scandal, 
and  started  all  that  horrid  notoriety  for  Marian 
Doubleday. 

VALERIE. 
How  do  you  know  ? 

FREDA. 

My  cousin,  Harry  Summers,  is  a  newspaper  man, 
and  they  all  know  who  did  it. 

PEGGY  (indignantly). 
Well,  why  didn't  you  tell  me? 

FREDA  (with  spirit). 

Well !  I  did  what  I  could,  didn't  I  ?  You  wouldn't 
take  a  hint,  and  I  couldn't  make  you  stop.  It's 
your  affair,  not  mine,  and  if  you  choose  to  publish 
it  through  the  medium  of  the  Top  Crest,  you  have 
the  privilege. 

VALERIE  (easily). 

Oh,  I  don't  believe  she'll  use  it,  anyway.  She  can't 
afford  to  incur  our  displeasure. 

FREDA. 

A  lot  she'd  care  for  our  displeasure  if  she  got  a 
good  story  out  of  it !  (  PEGGY  begins  to  whimper 
again. ) 

Enter  BERTHA  ASHLEY,  a  tall,  thin-lipped  woman, 
[167] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

who,  by  tone,  bearing,  and  costume,  seeks  to 
give  the  impression  that  she  moves  in  exclusive 
circles. 

VALERIE 

(intercepting  her  near  the  door). 
Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Bertha?    Such  a  long  time  since 
I've  seen  you ! 

BERTHA. 

Yes,  isn't  it?     (Shakes  hands  and  passes  on.    VAL 
ERIE  signs  to  MABEL  to  make  talk. ) 

FREDA 

(stopping  BERTHA  at  the  tea-table). 
Why,  Bertha,  how  did  you  happen  to  come,  too? 
Did  you  suspect  a  gathering  of  the  clans? 

BERTHA 

(coolly,  stepping  past  her  toward  PEGGY). 
Ah,  Freda,  you,  too  ? 

MABEL  (joining  BERTHA). 

Oh,  Bertha,  I  want  to  tell  you!     Charlie  saw  you 
on  the  train  the  other  day,  and  he  said 

BERTHA 

(passing  her  and  looking  shrewdly  at  PEGGY). 
Well,  Peggy,  how  did  you  enjoy  the  recital? 

PEGGY  (whose  lips  still  quiver). 

Qh?  were  you  there  ?     I — I 

[168] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

FREDA 

(slipping  between  BERTHA  and  PEGGY). 
Oh,  yes,  she  enjoyed  it  immensely  !    She's  just  been 
telling  us  about  it. 

BERTHA  (with  a  sharp  glance). 
You  look  as  if  it  had  affected  your  emotions. 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  no,  I— I 

VALERIE  (pouring  tea). 

Do  sit  down,  Bertha !  Doesn't  Ethel's  voice  always 
affect  you?  It  has  a  pathetic  quality  that  never 
fails  to  bring  tears  to  my  eyes. 

BERTHA  (sitting  at  tea-table). 
H'm.      Perhaps.      I'm   not    especially  sensitive   to 
that  sort  of  thing. 

VALERIE. 

Do  have  some  tea,  Bertha. 

BERTHA. 

No,  thanks.     You  were  in  very  distinguished  com 
pany,  Peggy.     (FREDA  and  VALERIE  offer  her  bis 
cuits  and  sweets,  which  she  waves  away. ) 
[169] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY. 

I  was? 

BERTHA  (pulling  off  her  gloves). 
Yes,  weren't  you  with  Mrs.  Howard? 

PEGGY. 
Mrs.  Howard! 

BERTHA. 

Yes,  Mrs.  Otis  Howard,  you  know.  Is  it  possible 
you  didn't  know  that  the  woman  who  sat  next 
you  was  Mrs.  Otis  Howard? 

PEGGY,    VALERIE,    FREDA,    MABEL. 

Mrs.  Otis  Howard! 

BERTHA. 

Yes,  didn't   you  notice  her?     She  wore  a  brown 

tailor  suit 

PEGGY. 
With  a  seven-gored  skirt 

FREDA. 

And  a  jacket  trimmed  with  applique 

MABEL. 

Opening  over  a  vest  of 

VALERIE. 

And  a  brown  hat 

[170] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 
PEGGY. 

Trimmed  with  folds  of  panne 

VALERIE. 

And  she's  tall 

MABEL. 
And  slender 

PEGGY. 
And  has  yellow  hair 

BERTHA. 

Well,  you  all  seem  to  know  all  about  her ! 

PEGGY. 

Was  that  Mrs.  Otis  Howard? 

BERTHA   (rising). 
That  was  Mrs.  Otis  Howard. 

PEGGY  (wildly). 

And  she's  the  wife  of  Jack's  client!  And  she's 
coming  here  to  dinner !  And — oh,  girls  (wailing), 
what  have  I  done !  ( She  drops  into  a  chair  weep 
ing  aloud.) 

BERTHA. 

Why,  what's  the  matter?     (FREDA  goes  to  PEGGY 
and  vigorously  remonstrates  with  her.) 
[171] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

VALERIE 

(stepping   between   BERTHA   and   PEGGY,    talking 

rapidly  and  impressively}. 

Why,  you  see,  this  Mrs.  Howard  is  the  wife  of  a 
very  important  client  of  Jack's,  and  Peggy  called 
on  her  to-day  and  she  was  out.  Peggy  wants  to 
show  this  Mrs.  Howard  every  possible  courtesy,  you 
know,  and  she  didn't  recognise  her — how  could  she, 
you  know,  when  she  hadn't  met  her? — and — and 

BERTHA. 

Well,  I  don't  see  anything  to  cry  about. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,    you   don't   know!      You    don't   know!      I've 

lost 

FREDA 

(giving  PEGGY  a  little  restraining  shake). 
Peggy's  lost — has  lost — her  kitten!     Viking,  you 
know.     He  strayed  away 

PEGGY  (moaning). 
I'm  sure  she  stole  it ! 

FREDA. 

Or    been    stolen — and    she's    quite   broken-hearted 
about  it,  as  you  can  see.  We've  been  trying  to  com 
fort  her  and  tell  her  that  he  may  be  found  again,  or 
come  back — cats  always  do  come  back,  don't  they  ? 
[  172  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY  (sobbmg). 

And  to  think  that  it  was  Mrs.  Howard,  of  all 
people ! 

MABEL. 
How  do  you  know  it  was  Mrs.  Howard,  Bertha? 

BERTHA. 

Why,  I  know  all  about  her.  She  was  one  of  the 
Philadelphia  Deanes,  you  know,  and  she  was  en 
gaged  to  Count  Angellotti,  but  it  was  broken  off 
very  suddenly.  Then  about  four  years  ago  she 
married  Otis  Howard.  He's  a  cousin  of  the  Van 
Vliets,  you  know — the  New  York  Van  Vliets — and 
they  have  the  loveliest  place  in  Willowdale!  We 
spent  the  summer  there  once,  and  I  met  her  at  a 
luncheon  at  Mrs.  Bolton's — Mrs.  Sumner  Bolton's, 
you  know.  She  was  a  Felton. 

FREDA. 

Tell  me  about  this  Mrs.  Howard,  Bertha.  Is  she — 
peculiar  in  any  way? 

BERTHA. 

Why,  no!  Why  should  she  be?  Only  she's  very 
smart,  you  know;  exclusive  and  all  that.  (PEGGY 
groans.  FREDA  motions  to  MABEL,  to  take  BERTHA 
away.)  It's  considered  a  great  distinction  in  Wil 
lowdale  to  be  invited  to  her  house.  And  she's  com 
ing  here  to  dinner,  you  say? 
[173] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

MABEL. 

Yes,  and  we  must  go  and  give  Peggy  a  chance  to 
dress.  Come  on,  Bertha.  Good-bye,  Peggy. 
Don't  worry  about  Viking.  Come,  Bertha. 

BERTHA. 

Aren't  the  rest  coming  ? 

FREDA. 

Oh,  yes,  we'll  catch  you  before  you  get  to  the  cor 
ner. 

BERTHA. 

I  was  sure  I  saw  you  talking  to  her,  Peggy.  She 
certainly  smiled  and  nodded  at  you. 

PEGGY. 

I  dropped  my  coat  and  she  picked  it  up  for  me, 
and  I  thought 

FREDA  (hurriedly). 

It  is  customary  to  thank  people  for  courtesies  of 
that  sort,  Bertha,  even  if  one  isn't  aware  of  their 
exalted  social  position. 

BERTHA. 

How  long  is  Mrs.  Howard  going  to  stay,  Peggy? 
[174] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

VALERIE. 

She  doesn't  know.  She  hasn't  seen  her  yet,  you 
know. 

BERTHA. 

Are  you  going  to  give  a  luncheon  or  anything  for 
her? 

FREDA 

(handing  BERTHA  her  gloves). 
How  can  she  tell,  when  she  doesn't  know  how  long 
she's  going  to  stay  ? 

BERTHA. 

Well,  if  I  can  help  you  any,  you'll  be  sure  to  let 
me  know,  won't  you,  dear?  You  may  have  any  of 
my  things,  you  know. 

MABEL. 
Oh,  come  on,  Bertha ! 

VALERIE  and  FREDA. 

Good-bye,  Bertha!  Good-bye!  (Exeunt  BERTHA 
and  MABEL,  FREDA  hurrying  them  out.) 

FREDA 

(turning  back  with  a  grimace). 
That  woman  would  beg  for  an  invitation  to  meet 
the  devil,  if  she  thought  he  was  in  any  way  connect 
ed  with  the  Knickerbocker  aristocracy !   Well,  what 
now?    Who  is  this  Mrs.  Howard,  anyway? 
[175] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY 

(springing  up  and  pacing  the  floor). 
She's  the  wife  of  a  client  of  Jack's. 

VALERIE  (drily). 

And  it's  most  important  that  she  should  be  concil 
iated  ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  what  shall  I  do !  What  willJack  say  ?  There's 
some  sort  of  a  big  deal  on,  and  it  means  thousands 
of  dollars  to  him 

FREDA. 

For  heaven's  sake!  (Runs  to  'phone  and  seizes  dir 
rectory. ) 

VALERIE. 
What  are  you  going  to  do,  Freda? 

FREDA. 

Stop  the  police. 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  can  you,  Freda?    Can  you  stop  them? 

FREDA. 

Well,  I  can  try. 

VALERIE. 

It's  quite  possible,  I  suppose,  that  the  woman's  a 
kleptomaniac. 

[  176  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

PEGGY 

(fingering  the  silver  on  the  tea-table). 
Mercy !    And  she's  coming  here  to  dinner ! 

FREDA. 

I  wonder  if  she  is? 

PEGGY. 
Eh? 

FREDA. 

Coming  to  dinner?  I  wonder  if  the  police  have 
found  her  yet  ? 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  dear !    Hurry,  Freda !    Hurry ! 

FREDA. 

Here  it  is!  (In 'phone.)  Main  65,  please.  .  .  . 
Six  five.  (Hangs  up.)  Line  busy. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  dear!  Oh,  Freda,  what  shall  I  do?  If  I've 
spoiled  Jack's  arrangements 

VALERIE. 

Oh,  well,  if  she's  a  sensible  woman,  she'll  see  how  it 
might  have  happened  to  any  one.  You  can  ex 
plain 

[  177  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

FREDA  (drily). 

Explaining  to  the  satisfaction  of  a  very  proud  and 
exclusive  woman  how  one  came  to  take  her  for  a 
thief  and  put  the  police  upon  her  track  is  not  the 
simplest  thing  in  life,  Val!  And  as  for  her  hus 
band (Shrugs  her  shoulders.) 

PEGGY  (sobbing). 
Oh,  dear ! 

FREDA  (in  'phone). 

Main  six  five,  please.  .  .  .  (Hangs  up.)  Still 
busy. 

VALERIE. 
Try  the  hotel. 

FREDA. 

Three  two  five,  isn't  it?  (VALERIE  nods.)  Main 
three  two  five,  please.  .  .  .  Hello.  Is  that  the 
VanWyke?  .  .  .  The  Van  Wyke.  .  .  .  What 
number  is  that  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  I  beg  pardon !  They 
gave  me  the  wrong  number.  .  .  .  (Hangs  up.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  dear ! 

FREDA  (in  'phone). 

Central,  you  gave  me  the  wrong  number.  I  want 
Main  three  two  five.  .  .  .  (Hangs  up.)  That 
line's  busy,  too.  (Takes  receiver  down  again.) 
Main  six  five.  .  .  .  Central,  how  long  do  you 
[178] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

permit  a  line  to  remain  busy?  .  .  .  Well,  I've 
been  trying  for  ten  minutes  to  get  this  one.  .  .  . 
No,  I'll  hold  this  line  until  I  get  it.  ... 
(Hangs  up  impatiently.)  When  I  have  more  time 
I'll  report  that  girl ! 

PEGGY  (tremulously). 
Suppose  they  find  her,  what  will  they  do? 

VALERIE. 

Search  her,  I  suppose,  won't  they? 

PEGGY. 

O-o-oh ! 

FREDA  (in  'phone). 

Main  six  five.  .  .  .  Hello.  Is  this  the  Chief  of 
Police?  .  .  .  I'm  speaking  for  Mrs.  John  Bur 
ton,  whose  purse  was  reported  lost  this  afternoon. 
Have  you  taken  any  steps  to  find  it?  .  .  .  You 
have  ? 

PEGGY. 
Oh,  Freda ! 

FREDA. 

Keep  still,  Peggy!  (In  ' 'phone.)  What?  .  .  . 
Well,  will  you  please  stop  the  proceedings  at  once? 

PEGGY. 

What  have  they  done? 

[  179  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

FREDA. 

Do  keep  still,  Peggy  !  (In 'phone.)  What?  .  .  . 
No,  the  things  have  not  been  found  (PEGGY  sobs), 
but  we  have  learned  that  it's  impossible  that  the 
woman  who  sat  next  Mrs.  Burton  could  have  taken 
them.  We're  most  anxious  that  no  rumour  of  this 
suspicion  should  reach  her.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  . 
Do  you  think  you  can  intercept  him? 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  Freda,  have  they  arrested  her? 

FREDA. 

Peggy!  (In  'phone.)  Oh,  please  try!  And  we're 
very  sorry  to  have  made  you  so  much  trouble. 
.  .  .  No,  the  purse  has  not  been  found.  .  .  . 
Thank  you.  Good-bye.  (Hangs  up.) 

VALERIE. 

Well? 

FREDA. 

He  says  they've  sent  a  detective  up  to  the  hotel,  but 
he  may  be  able  to  intercept  him,  and  he'll  keep  a 
lookout  for  the  purse. 

PEGGY 

Oh,  no !    He  mustn't !    Oh,  don't  let  him,  Freda ! 
[180] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 
FREDA. 

Why,  that  won't  do  any  harm,  Peggy.  He  may  be 
able  to  find  the  things.  (Door-bell  rings.) 

PEGGY. 

No !  Oh,  no,  no !  I  think  policemen  are  simply 
awful !  I  didn't  want  you  to  report  this  in  the  first 
place.  You  know  I  didn't !  And  if  it  hadn't  been 
reported,  I  shouldn't  be  in  this  awful  scrape !  You 
see,  I  was  right  about  it  all  the  time,  and  I  simply 
won't  be  mixed  up  with  them  any  more!  You  tell 
them  not  to  do  a  thing  about  the  purse,  Freda. 

FREDA  (rising). 

I  won't  tell  them  anything  so  silly.  If  you  want  to 
say  that,  you  say  it  yourself.  (Telephone  bell 
rings. ) 

PEGGY. 
You  answer  it,  Freda. 

FREDA  (coldly). 

No,  I  think  you'd  better  do  your  own  telephoning 
after  this. 

Enter  MABEL,  breathless  and  dishevelled,  her  hat 

awry  and  her  hair  disordered. 

[181] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PEGGY,    FREDA,   VALERIE. 

Mabel! 

MABEL   (panting). 

Have  they  caught  her? 

THE   OTHERS. 

No!    Why? 

MABEL. 

Well,  I  just  happened  to  remember  that  I  told 
Charlie  all  about  it,  and  he's  gone  up  to  the  hotel 
to  catch  her. 

THE   OTHERS. 
What! 

MABEL. 

I — I  thought  it  was  so  dreadful  for  Peggy  to  lose 
her  engagement  ring,  you  know — for  I  know  how 
I'd  feel  if  I  lost  mine — I'd  almost  rather  lose  my 
wedding  ring (Stops  for  breath.) 

FREDA  (sharply). 
Well?    Well?    Well? 

MABEL. 

So  I  'phoned  Charlie  while  you  were  all  in  the  other 
room  with  Miss  Evans 

FREDA. 

Heavens  !    We  forgot  all  about  the  Evans  woman ! 
She'll  make  no  end  of  trouble ! 
[182] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 
MABEL. 

And  he  said  he'd  go  right  up  to  the  hotel,  and  if  he 
saw  the  woman  he'd  just  talk  to  her,  and  make  her 
give  up  poor  Peggy's  things.  (All  the  others  drop 
into  chairs  with  ejaculations.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  dear! 

FREDA. 

Ye  gods! 

VALERIE. 

Good  gracious ! 

MABEL. 

And  when  I  found  that  she  was  sort  of  a  connection 
of  Jack's  in  a  business  way,  I  thought  I'd  better 
come  back  and  tell  you — and  I  ran  nearly  all  the 
way! 

FREDA. 
Well,  now  you  have  done  it ! 

VALERIE. 

This  is  what  comes  of  sharing  all  the  dear  little  de 
tails  ! 

MABEL  (tearfully). 
Well,  I  wanted  to  help  poor  Peggy,  and — and  I 

knew  Charlie  could (Telephone  bell  rings.) 

[183] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

FREDA. 

Yes,  undoubtedly  Charlie  could!  I  wonder  if  we 
can  intercept  him  anywhere? 

MABEL. 

No,  I  think  not,  for  he  said  he'd  leave  the  office  at 
once  and  wouldn't  be  home  until  he'd  found  the 
woman. 

VALERIE. 

And  if  there's  any  one  characteristic  that  Charlie 
possesses  in  abundance  it's  perseverance ! 

PEGGY. 

But  he  doesn't  know  her ! 

MABEL. 

Oh,  I  described  her  very  carefully,  you  know.  I 
said  she  had  on  a  brown  tailor  suit,  made  with  a 
seven-gored  skirt 

FREDA,    PEGGY    (groaning). 
Oh,  Mabel!     (Telephone  bell  rings  a  long  peal.) 

PEGGY   (in  'phone). 

Well?  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  Oh,  the  Van  Wyke! 
Yes,  yes,  we  have  just  learned  that  it  was  Mrs. 
Howard,  and  oh,  you  won't  say  anything  to  her 
about  it,  will  you?  .  .  .  Oh,  no,  not  for  the 
[184] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

world!     .     .     .     And  you  won't  let  any  of  those 

horrid  policemen  see  her,  will  you?  .     .     .     Yes 

(tearfully),  they've  sent  a  detective.  .  .  .  No, 
we — we  haven't  found  it  yet. 

FREDA. 

Ask  if  Charlie's  there. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  thank  you,  Mr. — is  this  Mr.  Collins?  .  .  . 
Thank  you,  Mr.  Collins.  .  .  .  Yes,  all  my  rings. 
They  hurt  my  fingers,  you  know,  and  I  took  them 

off  and 

VALERIE. 
Ask  if  Charlie's  there ! 

PEGGY. 

Yes,  and  a  hundred  dollars  besides.  .  .  .  But 
you  won't  ever  let  Mrs.  Howard  know,  will  you? 
Because  her  husband  is 

MABEL. 

Peggy  !     Ask  if  Charlie's  there ! 

PEGGY. 

What?  .  .  .  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Collins.  We're 
so  sorry 

[  185  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

FREDA 

(firmly   taking  receiver  away   from    PEGGY,   who 

starts  indignantly  ) . 

Mr.  Collins,  do  you  know  Mr.  Charles  Dover? 
.  .  .  Well,  if  a  young  man  with  light  hair  and 
dark  eyes  comes  inquiring  for  Mrs.  Howard,  or  for 
a  woman  in  a  brown  tailor  suit,  tell  him  the  matter 
has  been  arranged ;  and  whatever  you  do,  don't  let 
him  see  Mrs.  Howard.  .  .  .  Er — y-yes,  a — a 
sort  of  detective. 

MABEL. 
Freda ! 

FREDA. 
Thank  you.    Good-bye.     (Hangs  up.) 

MABEL. 

Freda,  you  had  no  business  to  say  Charlie  was  a 
detective ! 

FREDA. 
Well,  I  had  to  prevent  his  seeing  her  in  some  way. 

MABEL. 

Well,  that  won't  prevent  him,  for  I  told  him  the  po 
lice  and  hotel  people  had  been  notified,  and  you 
know  Charlie  says  the  police  never  go  about  any 
thing  the  right  way,  so  he  isn't  going  to  let  them 
get  an  inkling  that  he's  trying  to  see  her,  for  fear 
they  go  and  spoil  it  all.  But  he's  going  to  the  la- 
[  186  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

dies'  entrance,  and  he's  going  to  stand  there  until 
he  sees  her,  and  then  he'll  speak  to  her  and  make 
her  give  up  Peggy's  things. 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  oh,  oh !  How  can  I  ever  look  Jack  in  the  face 
again!  (She  sits,  on  the  left,  weeping.) 

MABEL 

(sitting,  on  the  right,  weeping). 
I — I'm  awfully  sorry,  girls,  but  I  wanted  to  help ! 

FREDA. 

Well,  you  helped! 

VALERIE  (hopefully). 
Maybe  he  won't  see  her. 

FREDA. 

Yes,  and  maybe  he  will — and  we  all  know  Charlie ! 
(PEGGY  and  MABEL,  weep  more  convulsively.) 

VALERIE. 

Well,  perhaps  she  has  the  things.  Perhaps  she  is 
a  kleptomaniac.  Peggy  may  get  her  rings  by  the 
operation,  anyway. 

[  187  ] 


FREDA. 

COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Yes,  and  Jack  has  a  deal  on  that  involves  a  hundred 
times  the  value  of  that  purse  and  everything  in  it ! 

MABEL. 

Except  P-p-peggy's  engagement  ring!     Nothing 
could  ever  make  up  for  that ! 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  my  rings !    Oh,  Ja-ack !     Oh,  de-e-e-ear! 

MABEL. 

Imagine   entertaining    a  kleptomaniac   at   dinner! 
Oh,  girls,  do  you  suppose  she'll  wear  the  rings? 

FREDA. 

Well,  not  if  Charlie  has  met  her!  Val,  I'm  going 
to  the  hotel  to  see  if  I  can  find  Charlie.  You  tele 
phone  to  the  Top  Crest  and  get  that  Evans  wom 
an.  Tell  her — oh,  tell  her  that  I  want  to  see  her  at 
my  house  at  eight  o'clock  to-night.  I'll  tell  her 
some  sort  of  a  tale  that  may  get  us  all  into  print, 
but  anyway,  it  will  be  better  than  having  the  truth 
come  out  about  poor  Peggy.  You  stay  here,  and  if 
I  find  Charlie,  I'll  'phone.  And  if  the  woman  comes 
before  I  do,  it  will  be  sure  proof  that  she  didn't 
meet  Charlie,  for  not  even  a  kleptomaniac  would 
[  188  ] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

accept  a  dinner  invitation  in  the  face  of  an  accusa 
tion  like  that!  (Exit  FREDA.) 

PEGGY. 

Oh,  what  will  Jack  say?  Oh,  girls,  what  shall  I 
tellJack? 

MABEL. 

Well,  you  ought  to  have  told  Jack  in  the  first  place ! 
If  you  had,  I  shouldn't  have  dragged  poor  Charlie 
into  it!  (Both  weep.) 

VALERIE   (in  'phone). 

Main  7,  please.  .  .  .  Hello.  Is  that  the  Top 
Crest?  ...  Is  Miss  Evans  there?  .  .  . 
Just  left?  .  .  .  Will  she  be  back  to-night? 
...  To  the  Van  Wyke!  ...  To  interview 
who?  .  .  .  Mrs.  Otis  Howard!  My  land! 
Well,  if  she  returns,  will  you  tell  her  that  Miss 
Freda  Dixon  wishes  to  see  her  on  very  important 
business,  and  that  Miss  Dixon  will  be  at  home  at 
eight  o'clock  ? 

Enter  FREDA,  wearing  hat  and  carrying  fur  coat. 

VALERIE  (continuing). 

What?     .     .     .    You  can  'phone  her?    .     .     .     Oh, 
thank   you!      .      .      .      Yes,   it's   very   important. 
.    .    .    No,  it  must  be  Miss  Evans.    .    .     .    Thank 
you.     Good  night.     (Hangs  up.) 
[189] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

FREDA  (struggling  into  coat). 
What  do  they  say? 

VALERIE. 

Freda !     The  Evans  woman  has  gone  to  the  Van 
Wyke  to  interview  Mrs.  Otis  Howard ! 

FREDA 

(pausing,  with  the  coat  half  on). 
Ye  gods ! 

VALERIE. 

She  has  just  left,  and  they  think  they  can  'phone 
her  and  give  her  your  message. 

FREDA  (scrambling  into  coat). 
Well,  I  have  always  prided  myself  on  being  a  di 
rect  descendant  of  Ananias,  but  I  doubt  if  I  shall 
be  equal  to  the  occasion  if  that  woman  has  smelled 
a  mouse.  Where  are  my  gloves?  (Feels  in  coat- 
pocket.)  I — why  (examining  coat) — this  isn't 
my  coat!  It's  Peggy's.  (As  she  takes  the  coat  off 
she  pauses  again,  startled.)  Why — what's  that? 
—It's— it's— girls  !  Girls  !  I've  got  it !  Here  it 
is! 

THE   OTHERS. 
What?    What? 

Enter  KATIE  with  a  card,  to  which  she  vainly  tries 

to  attract  PEGGY'S  attention. 

[190] 


THE    KLEPTOMANIAC 

FREDA. 

Peggy's  purse !    There  was  a  rip  in  the  lining 

PEGGY 

(seizing  the  purse  and  kissmg  it  rapturously). 
My  purse !    My  purse ! 

VALERIE. 

There  was  a  rip  in  the  lining ! 

KATIE. 

Mrs.  Burton !     There's  a  lady  below ! 

PEGGY  (taking  card). 
Mrs.  Otis  Howard ! 

VALERIE. 
Then  she  has  come ! 

MABEL. 
Then  Charlie 

PEGGY. 
Then  Jack 

FREDA. 
Then  all  of  us 

ALL    TOGETHER. 

Oh,  girls! 

CURTAIN. 
[191] 


A    PIPE    OF   PEACE 


A   PIPE   OF   PEACE 

A  Comedy  in   One  Act 

CHARACTERS 

Joseph  Terrill. 
Gladys  Terrill. 
Molly,  the  maid. 


The  Terrills'  dining-room,  low-ceiled,  and  pan 
elled  in  dark  woods,  is  lighted  by  many  candles, 
held  in  brass  candlesticks  of  every  conceivable  age 
and  country.  They  adorn  the  table,  the  buffet,  the 
sideboard,  the  mantel,  and  are  placed  at  intervals 
on  a  shelf  which  runs  around  the  room,  where  they 
stand  between  pieces  of  antique  and  more  or  less 
perfectly  preserved  china,  and  strange  Oriental, 
Russian,  and  Hungarian  brasses.  The  brass  and 
irons  in  the  -fireplace  date  back  four  generations,  as 
does  the  warming-pan  hanging  near  them.  The 
polished  floors  are  covered  with  rare  Eastern  rugs, 
and  everything  about  the  room  betokens  the  enthu 
siastic  collector.  The  dining-table,  on  the  left,  is 
daintily  equipped,  and  on  a  small  writing-table,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  stand  a  desk  tele 
phone,  lighted  candles,  and  a  brass  jar  of  twisted 
paper  spills.  A  wide  doorway  at  the  back,  on  the 
right,  discloses  the  divans,  lounging  chairs,  pipe- 
racks,  and  other  comfortable  paraphernalia  of  the 
smoking-room  beyond.  Another  doorway,  at  the 
back  on  the  left,  leads  to  the  hall,  and  a  third  door, 
on  the  left,  to  the  butler's  pantry. 

At  the  table,  GLADYS  TERRIL.L,  a  slender,  grace- 
[  195  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ful,  impulsive  young  woman,  charmingly  dressed, 
sits  opposite  her  big,  good-natured,  tender-hearted 
husband,  whose  glance  is  steady  and  whose  chin  is 
firm. 

They  are  just  finishing  dinner. 

JOE 

(taking  the  last  sip  of  his  coffee). 
Ah!     That  new  cook  is  a  jewel,  Gladys!     That's 
better  coffee  than  I've  had  before  in  a  month. 

GLADYS  (smiling). 
Even  at  the  club  ? 

JOE. 

Even  at  the  club.  It's  a  fitting  finish  to  a  perfect 
dinner.  (  To  himself,  as  he  pushes  back  his  chair. ) 
I  wonder  how  long  it  will  take  her  to  confess  ?  (  To 
her.)  If  I  were  a  suspicious  man,  or  you  were  an 
artful  woman — and  were  I  the  one,  you  would  un 
doubtedly  become  the  other — I  should  suspect  that 
you  had  some  reason  to  fear  my  displeasure 
(GLADYS  moves  uneasily),  and  had  planned  this 
dinner  for  the  special  purpose  of  disarming  me. 
I  thought  I  was  cross  when  I  came  home,  and  I 
know  I  was  tired  and  anxious ;  but  now — it  needs 
but  a  pipe  and  some  music  to  make  my  content 
ment  complete.  (He  rises  and  walks  toward  the 
smoking-room. ) 

[196] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

GLADYS  (hastily). 

Oh,  Joe,  I  forgot  to  tell  you !  I  got  such  a  gem 
of  a  chair  to-day ! 

JOE 

(in  the  smoking-room,  absently,  as  he  looks  from 

side  to  side). 
Yes? 

GLADYS. 

A  genuine  antique — mahogany,  of  course.  It  be 
longed  to  Martha  Washington's  mother,  and  is  in 
perfect  condition. 

JOE. 

That's  good.  Gladys,  do  you  know  where  my 
pipe  is? 

GLADYS 

(rising,  laughing  nervously). 

What  pipe?  You  have  so  many!  I  don't  smoke 
your  pipes,  Joe !  But  come,  let  me  tell  you  about 
this  chair!  (JoE  abandons  the  search  for  the  pipe 
and  rejoins  her. )  It's  such  a  dear  !  It's  quite  low, 
with  a  high  back,  curved  so  (illustrating) — a  most 
unusual  shape,  the  man  said.  It's  great  luck  to 
get  a  piece  so  well  authenticated. 

JOE. 

Did  he  give  you  a  pedigree  with  it? 
[  197  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Well,  he  assured  me  that  it  had  belonged  to  the 
Custis  family. 

JOE. 

The  Custis  family !  I  thought  you  said  it  belonged 
to  Martha  Washington's  mother. 

GLADYS. 

Well,  her  name  was  Custis  before  it  was  Washing 
ton,  wasn't  it? 

JOE. 
To  be  sure,  it  was !    Mrs.  Custis. 

GLADYS. 

Oh!  Why — that's  so!  Oh,  well,  he  probably 
meant  her  mother-in-law.  Some  people  disregard 
those  small  distinctions,  you  know. 

JOE. 

True.  Accuracy  seems  incompatible  with  a  taste 
for  curios. 

GLADYS. 
And  from  the  Custis  family  it  passed  to  the  Lees. 

JOE. 

Aurora  Leigh,  I  suppose?  Or  was  it  the  beautiful 
Annabel  ? 

[198] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

GLADYS. 

Joe!  And  he  bought  it  from  a  cousin  of  the  Lees, 
a  Mrs.  Stanton,  who  has  fallen  upon  evil  days  and 
has  had  to  part  with  all  of  the  family  plate.  Isn't 
it  sad ! 

JOE 

(poking  about  among  the  brasses  on  the  mantel). 
Very.  I  wonder  where  that  pipe  can  be?  I 
thought  I  put  it  in  the  rack  last  night. 

GLADYS. 

You  did.    That  is — er — I  think  you  did. 

JOE. 

Well,  why  isn't  it  there,  then? 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  well,  never  mind !  Take  another  one.  I  want 
to  show  you  the  chair. 

JOE. 

But  I  want  that  one.  Nothing  but  that  meer 
schaum  is  fit  to  smoke  after  such  a  dinner! 

GLADYS  (falteringly). 
Are  you  so  very  fond  of  it? 
[199] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE. 

Fond  of  it!  That  pipe  has  been  my  best  friend 
for  years. 

GLADYS  (archly). 
Your  best  friend? 

JOE 

(m  the  doorway  on  his  way  to  the  smoking-room). 

When  you  flouted  me  and  would  none  of  me,  my 
dear,  it  was  my  only  solace !  When  I  was  trying 
to  screw  my  courage  to  the  proposing  point,  it 
was  my  sole  confidante.  And  when,  finally,  you 
promised  to  marry  me,  it  alone  knew  the  ineffable 
joy  that  filled  my  soul !  My  pipe  !  My  pipe !  My 
kingdom  for  my  pipe ! 

(He  disappears  in  the  smoking-room.) 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  dear!  .  .  .  Joe,  dear,  come  here  a  mo 
ment. 

JOE  (outside). 
Just  a  moment.     I  want  to  find 


GLADYS  (faintly). 

No,  dear ;  come  now,  please. 
[200] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

JOE  (hurrying  to  her). 

What's  the  matter,  dearie?  Are  you  ill?  Do  you 
feel  faint? 

GLADYS  (holding  him  off). 

Oh,  no,  no — I'm  all  right,  only —  Sit  there, 
please,  while  I  tell  you  what — what  I  paid — for 
that  chair. 

JOE  (to  himself). 

Aha !  Now  for  the  pipe  story  !  (  To  her,  easily. ) 
Oh,  that's  all  right,  dearie !  I  never  question  your 
expenditures,  you  know. 

GLADYS. 

Yes,  but  I — I — must  tell  you  about — this  one. 

JOE 

(to  himself,  as  he  wheels  up  a  chair  for  her). 
Poor  little  girl !     I  ought  to  tell  her  that  I  rescued 
the  pipe.     Confound  it,  though,  it's  time  she  had  a 
lesson. 

GLADYS. 
Come,  Joe ! 

JOE 
(with  a  grimace  of  mock  resignation). 

Very   well;  but  why  this  sudden  enthusiasm  over 

foundered    furniture,    anyway?      I    thought   that 

[201]' 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

nothing  but  ancient  and  honourable  brass,  with 
"the  loving  marks  of  the  hammer"  upon  it,  was 
worthy  of  your  love — and  your  lucre. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  of  course,  brass  is  all  very  well,  but  I  have  a 
great  deal  of  it;  and  it's  getting  to  be  rather  a 
vulgar  and  commonplace  pursuit — collecting  brass. 
Everybody's  doing  it  now. 

JOE. 

Has  your  dear,  disagreeable  friend  Mrs.  Corliss 
succeeded  in  getting  any  yet? 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  she  has  a  few  small  pieces,  and  one  very  good 
samovar  and  tray.  Poor  Mrs.  Corliss !  She  called 
upon  me  last  week,  and  when  she  saw  my  new  can 
dlesticks — the  ones  from  Manila,  you  know — she 
positively  grew  pale !  I  knew  how  envious  she  was 
when  she  began  talking  of  the  mahogany  table  that 
descended  to  her  from  her  great-grandmother,  who 
belonged  to  an  obscure  branch  of  the  Lee  family. 
Then  she  said,  in  that  lofty,  patronising  way  of 
hers:  "Nothing  gives  such  an  air  of  quiet  distinc 
tion  to  a  room,  Mrs.  Terrill,  as  a  few  fine  old  pieces 
of  mahogany." 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

JOE  (laughing). 
Poor  Gladys  !     And  you  hadn't  a  single  stick ! 

GLADYS    (  vindictively  ) , 

Well,  I  have  now!  And  it  antedates  her  grand 
mother,  too,  and  comes  from  the  main  branch  of 
the  same  family,  with  the  Custis  connection  back 
of  that! 

JOE. 

Whee-ew!  "Charge,  Chester,  charge!  On,  Stan 
ley,  on!"  All  right,  dearie,  I'm  glad  to  see  you 
win.  (Rises.) 

GLADYS  (breathlessly). 

Oh,  Joe !  Wait !  That  is— I— I  haven't  told  you 
yet  about  that  chair — about  what  I  gave  for  it, 
you  know. 

JOE. 

Oh,  never  mind,  sweetheart.  Nothing  —  within 
reason,  of  course — is  too  much  to  pay  for  a  vic 
tory  over  Mrs.  Corliss.  I  confess  I  don't  like  that 
woman ;  and  I  won't  have  her  patronising  you, 
confound  her ! 

GLADYS  (taking  courage). 

Then  maybe  you'll  forgive  me !     You  see,  the  man 

who  had  that  chair  heard,  somehow,  that  I  bought 

[203  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

a  good  deal  of  brass,  and  he  came  here  yesterday  to 
tell  me  that  he  had  some  andirons  and  things.  They 
weren't  genuine  antiques,  and,  of  course,  I  didn't 
want  them.  Some  one  was  in  the  reception-room 
at  the  time,  and  I  received  him  in  here,  and — and — 
he  saw — he  saw  that  old  meerschaum  of  yours  in 
the  pipe-rack 

JOE. 

Gladys !    You  didn't 


GLADYS. 

Wait,  Joe !  Please  !   He  admired  it  very  much 

JOE  (savagely). 

Of  course  he  did !  (  To  himself. )  Oh,  what  a  brute 
I  am! 

GLADYS. 

And  said  that  he  had  an  order  for  just  such  a  pipe 
from — from — oh,  I've  forgotten  the  name — some 
pipe  collector — and  asked  me  if  I'd  sell  the  pipe. 

JOE. 

And  you? 

GLADYS. 

I  said  no,  of  course ! 

JOE. 
Of  course  you  did ! 

[204  ] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

GLADYS. 

Then  he  asked  me  if  I  was  interested  in  mahogany. 
Well,  I  remembered  Mrs.  Corliss  and  her  stupid  old 
table,  so  I  said  I  was,  and  he  told  me  about  this 
chair  and  offered  to  bring  it  here  to-day.  So  this 
morning  he  brought  it  and 

JOE  (indignantly). 
And  stole  my  pipe !    The  villain !  I'll  have  him 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  Joe,  please  wait! 

JOE  (impatiently). 

Well,  go  on !  Go  on  !  What  happened  ?  Who  is 
he?  Where's  his  shop? 

GLADYS. 

He  said  he  had  another  customer  for  the  chair,  who 
had  offered  him  fifty  dollars  for  it  yesterday  after 
noon,  but  that  he  had  promised  me  the  first  chance. 
I — I  said  that  fifty  dollars  seemed  a  great  deal 
for  a  small,  plain  chair,  and  then  he  said  that — he 
said — he — oh,  Joe!  (She  hides  her  face.) 

JOE  (grimly). 

Go  on.      (From  this  point  JOE'S  indignation  be 
comes  more  and  more  genuine. ) 
[205] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

He  said  that  if  I'd  let  him  have  the  pipe  I  might 
have  the  chair  for — thirty  dollars. 

JOE. 

Gladys,  did  you 


GLADYS. 

I  told  him  I'd  speak  to  you  about  it ;  but  he  said  the 
other  customer  was  waiting  for  the  chair 

JOE  (sarcastically). 

Of  course  the  other  customer  was  waiting!  They 
always  are!  And  the  telephone,  I  suppose,  was 
out  of  order? 

GLADYS. 

I  did  try  to  'phone  to  you,  Joe,  but  the  boy  said 
that  you  were  out  and  wouldn't  be  back  until  after 
five  o'clock. 

JOE. 

Well? 

GLADYS. 

So  I  told  the  man  that  I  couldn't  buy  the  chair,  and 
he  was  taking  it  away  when  I  happened  to  wonder 
who  the  other  customer  was.  I  asked  him,  and  he 
couldn't  remember  the  name,  but  said  it  was  a  lady 
[206] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

living  in  Washington  Avenue.  Then  I  knew  that 
it  must  be  Mrs.  Corliss,  and  he  was  very  sure  that 
that  was  the  name 

JOE. 

Of  course  he  was !    Oh,  Gladys ! 

GLADYS. 

Joe,  he  got  clear  to  the  gate  with  that  chair,  and 
when  I  thought  of  Mrs.  Corliss's  getting  it  I  just 
couldn't  let  it  go.  I  called  him  back  and  offered 
forty  dollars  for  it 

JOE. 

Why  didn't  you  give  him  fifty  ? 

GLADYS. 

I  hadn't  it.  I've  exceeded  my  allowance  already. 
And  when  he  refused  forty  I — I — I  gave  him  the 
pipe!  (Joe  turns  away,  with  a  muttered  exclama 
tion.)  It  was  only  an  old  stained  thing,  anyway, 
Joe ;  and  I  went  right  down  town  and  bought  you  a 
nice  new  one!  See!  (She  goes  to  a  cabinet  and 
produces  a  new  meerschaum,  of  a  shape  to  arouse 
all  a  pipe-lover' 's  wrath.)  Isn't  that  a  nice  clean 
one?  (Joe  groans.)  And  just  think  what  fun 
you'll  have  colouring  it!  The  other  one  was  fin 
ished,  wasn't  it? 

[207] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE  (despairingly). 

Gladys,  that  pipe  was — oh,  hang  it,  what's  the  use ! 
Where's  the  chair? 

GLADYS. 

In  the  library.  Why?  (JOE  touches  a  bell  on  the 
table. ) 

Enter  from  the  butler's  pantry  MOLLY,  the  maid. 

JOE. 

Molly,  bring  in  the  old  chair  that  Mrs.  Terr  ill 
bought  this  afternoon.  (Exit  MOLLY.) 

(  JOE  paces  moodily  to  and  fro,  while  GLADYS  fusses 

nervously  about  the  table,  occasionally  glanc- 

mg  at  him.) 

Enter  MOLLY,  pushing  the  chair  before  her.  It  is 
of  plain,  rather  awkward  shape.  Its  dark, 
scratched  surface  is  rough  with  the  accumu 
lated  dust  of  attic  and  second-hand  shop,  and 
its  seat,  once  brave  in  glassy  black  haircloth, 
dull  tatters  of  which  still  remain,  is  lumpy 
and  without  resilience.  The  weary  springs 
have  thrust  themselves  out  at  the  bottom,  and 
hang  in  dejected  spirals,  scraps  of  the  ragged 
lining  still  clinging  to  them.  Through  a 
heavy  silence,  MOLLY  pushes  this  forlorn 
remnant  to  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  then, 
tittering  irrepressibly,  she  hurries  out. 
[208] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

GLADYS 

(her  courage   returning  as  she  contemplates  her 
purchase). 

There,  Joe !  Don't  you  see  what  a  prize  that  is  ?  See 
that  curve  !  So  much  feeling !  And  the 

JOE  (explosively). 

Gladys  Terrill!  You  gave  my  pipe — and  thirty 
dollars— for  that? 

GLADYS. 

Why,  Joe,  that's 

JOE. 

It's  a  blooming  old  fraud,  that's  what  it  is !     And 

my  pipe,  my  meerschaum  pipe,  went  for (He 

shakes  his  head  in  mournful  despair. ) 

GLADYS. 

But  Joe!  You  have  so  many  pipes!  And  that 
one  was  all  coloured.  I  thought  the  interest  in  a 
meerschaum  lay  in  colouring  it.  You  don't  care  to 
make  collections,  so  I  don't  see  why 

JOE. 

For  heaven's  sake,  Gladys!     Do  yo  i  change  your 

fad  so  often  that  you  have  no  comprehension  of 

sentimental  values?     Does  it  mean  nothing  to  you 

[209] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

that  a  thing  has  been  closely  associated  with  all 
your  moods  for  years?  On  my  soul,  I  believe 
you're  a  lineal  descendant  of  Esau — but  you 
haven't  even  the  decent  excuse  of  hunger !  One  of 
these  days  I  shall  find  that  you've  renounced  me 
for  a  cracked  teacup  or  an  old  bent  spoon.  One 
piece  of  silver  would  be  about  my  price,  I  imagine, 
if  it  were  a  genuine  antique ! 

GLADYS. 

Joe,  I  may  have  been  at  fault,  but  I've  done  noth 
ing  to  call  down  upon  my  head  any  such  bitter, 
cruel  tirade  as  this ! 

JOE. 

Oh,  haven't  you?  When  you  painted  snow-scenes 
on  wooden  shovels  and  mounted  them  on  plush 
plaques;  when  you  daubed  tropical  landscapes  on 
sections  of  stove-pipe  and  stood  them  in  terra 
cotta  saucers  for  umbrella-stands ;  when  you  filled 
the  house  with  millinery  stuff  and  tied  gilded 
artichokes  to  the  backs  of  the  easy-chairs  with  pink 
ribbons,  "in  the  interests  of  sacred  home-bred  Art," 
did  I  make  any  remonstrance?  When  you  pitched 
all  that  out  and  took  to  Japanese  screens  and 
bamboo  furniture ;  tacked  fans  on  the  walls  and  put 
inflammable  paper  umbrellas  over  all  the  chande 
liers  ;  when  you  painted  writhing,  sprawling,  repul- 
[210] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

sive  gilt  dragons  on  blue-cotton  curtains  and  hung 
them  in  my  bedroom,  I  said  nothing.  When  you 
banished  all  the  carpets  and  put  down  noisy,  cold, 
comfortless,  slippery  hardwood  floors,  I  risked  my 
life  daily  without  a  murmur,  and  paid  cheerfully 
for  the  Persian  rugs ! 

GLADYS. 

But,  Joe,  sanitary  considerations 

JOE. 

Yes,  I  know.  Antique  rugs,  woven  amid  unspeak 
able  filth  and  used  for  years  in  vile  Oriental 
squalor — full  of  heaven  knows  how  many  kinds  of 
microbes — are  absolutely  necessary  to  the  latest 
improved  modern  sanitation !  When  you  filled  the 
house  with  cracked  china,  and  raved  over  the  "sin 
cerity"  of  a  pitcher  that  had  lost  its  handle  and 
wouldn't  hold  water,  I  made  no  comment.  And 
when  you  began  buying  brass,  I  saw  the  gas  and 
the  lamps  and  the  electricity  give  place  to  sputter 
ing  candles  in  order  that  you  might  show  your 
brass  candlesticks,  and  I  held  my  peace!  Every 
nook  and  corner  of  this  house  is  full  of  old  junk 
that  you  paid  Lord  knows  what  for,  and  that  you'll 
donate,  some  day,  to  the  Society  for  the  Beau- 
tification  of  Scavengers'  Homes !  But  the  end  has 
come !  I'll  be  hanged  if  I'm  going  to  submit  to 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

having  all  the  comfortable  chairs  in  the  house 
banished  to  make  room  for  stiff,  spavined,  knock- 
kneed  old  trumpery  like  that! 

GLADYS  (with  dignity). 

Joe,  even  if  you  have  no  appreciation  of  Art,  you 
must  admit  that  that  chair  has  historic  value. 

JOE. 

Historic  nonsense !  That  chair's  a  bally  old  cheat 
on  the  face  of  it,  and  anybody  can  see  with  half 
an  eye  that  it's  no  more  of  an  antique  than  I  am. 
It  was  probably  in  the  heyday  of  its  youth  and 
beauty  about  the  time  your  mother  was  married. 
(He  takes  out  his  penknife  and  scratches  the 
woody  while  she  flutters  protestingly  to  the  rescue.) 
I  thought  so!  You'll  acknowledge,  I  think,  that 
while  I'm  no  judge  of  the  values  of  sheet-iron  um 
brella-stands,  or  broken  crockery,  or  battered 
brass,  I  do  know  something  about  woods,  and  I  as 
sure  you  that  that  chair  is  made  of  plain,  ordinary, 
every-day  walnut! 

GLADYS. 

Joe !     Joe,  you  don't  mean  that !    Walnut  ? 

JOE. 

Walnut !     And   for  that,  you  bartered  my  meer 
schaum  pipe;  the  pipe  that  I  got  in  Heidelberg; 
[212] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

that  was  the  pride  of  my  student  days,  and  my 
friend  and  best  companion  in  the  disheartening 
years  after  my  father's  death!  The  pipe  that  I 
have  coloured  carefully  and  lovingly,  and  that  has 
contributed  to  my  pleasure  and  comfort  every  day 
for  fifteen  years !  The  colour  in  that  pipe  com 
prised  the  softest,  smoothest,  most  exquisite  tones 
imaginable,  and  was  a  constant  source  of  delight  to 
me.  You  tell  me  that  I  have  no  soul  for  beauty, 
no  appreciation  of  Art,  and  then  you  sell  that  pipe 
for — that! 

GLADYS 

(icily,  her  back  toward  him). 

Have  you  been  quite  brutal  enough  now?  Are 
there  are  any  more  unkind  things  that  you  wish 
'to  say?  Have  you  hurt  and  humiliated  me  suffi 
ciently?  (Turning  suddenly  upon  him.)  I  didn't 
know  that  your  affections  were  so  bound  up  in  that 
ugly,  smelly,  old  pipe,  and  I'm  sure  it  would  never 
occur  to  any  sane  person  that  the  thing  could  be 
desirable ! 

JOE. 

Ho,  wouldn't  it !    It's  not  six  months  since  Delvan 
offered  me  seventy-five  dollars  for  it.     It's  one  of 
the  finest  pieces  of  meerschaum  in  this  country. 
[213] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Delvan?     Delvan!     Who  is  Delvan? 

JOE. 

Fellow  at  the  club  who  prides  himself  on  his  col 
lection  of  pipes.  He  hasn't  a  meerschaum  among 
them  all  to  equal  mine.  He's  been  begging  for  it 
for  months. 

GLADYS  (tragically). 
Joe,  he's  the  man ! 

JOE 

(his  anger  spent,  concealing  a  smile). 
What  man? 

GLADYS. 
The  man  who  wants  your  pipe. 

JOE  (coolly). 
Why,  of  course  he  wants  my  pipe.     I  just  said  so, 

GLADYS. 

I  mean  the  man  who  said  he  wanted  a  pipe  like 
that. 

JOE. 

Certainly;  he  wanted  that  one. 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

GLADYS. 

Can't  you  see  ?  You  are  so  obtuse,  Joe  !  The  man 
said  that  a  man  had  given  him  an  order  for  a  pipe, 
and  he's  the  man. 

JOE  (solicitously). 
Gladys,  are  you  losing  your  mind?    What  man? 

GLADYS. 

Joe  Terrill,  you  are  the  slowest!  The  man  who 
sold  the  chair ! 

JOE  (slowly). 
Delvan  is  the  man  who  sold 

GLADYS. 

No,  no,  no !  The  man  who  sold  the  chair  said  he 
had  an  order  from  a  pipe  collector 

JOE. 
Oh! 

GLADYS. 

And  Delvan's  the  man ! 

JOE  (very  deliberately). 
Damn! 

GLADYS. 

Joe! 

[215] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE. 

Delvan's  been  making  offers  for  that  pipe  for  at 
least  two  years,  and  only  last  week  I  told  him  he'd 
never  get  it. 

GLADYS  (timidly). 
Wouldn't  he  give  it  back  to  you,  Joe? 

JOE. 

Give  it  back  to  me ! 

GLADYS. 

Yes,  if  you  told  him  the  circumstances ; — that  I 

JOE  (distinctly). 

That  my  wife  traded  off  a  valuable  pipe,  my  per 
sonal  property,  for  an  old  walnut  chair  and  thirty 
pieces  of  silver?  Oh,  yes,  I  dare  say  that  if  I  told 
him  that,  he'd  return  the  pipe — with  his  condo 
lences  ! 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  Joe!  Of  course,  you  couldn't  tell  him  that; 
but — but  /  can,  and  I  will.  (She  runs  to  the  writ 
ing-table  and  takes  up  the  telephone  directory.) 
I'll  telephone  to  him  this  very  minute  that  I 

JOE  (sternly). 

You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind  !    (He  takes  the  book 

from  her,  closing  it.)     This  is  not  a  matter  to  be 

[216] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

adjusted  over  the  telephone,  and  I  forbid  you, 
Gladys,  to  say  anything  whatever  about  this  mat 
ter  to  Mr.  Delvan,  either  now  or  at  any  future 
time. 

GLADYS  (rising,  aghast). 
You  forbid  me! 

JOE. 
I  forbid  you!  (Exit  JOE  to  hall.) 

(GLADYS  stares  after  him  in  amazement,  gasps, 
blinks,  and  then,  as  the  full  realisation  of  the 
result  of  her  bargaining  overwhelms  her,  she 
wrings  her  hands  and  drops  into  a  chair  at 
the  writing-table,  burying  her  face  in  her 
arms. ) 

Enter  JOE,  carrying  his  hat,  overcoat,  and  a  heavy 
stick. 

JOE. 

What's  this  curio  dealer's  name,  Gladys?  And 
where's  his  shop? 

GLADYS  (dully). 

His  name's  Gortowski,  and  his  shop's  in  Curtis 
Place.  Why? 

JOE. 

I'm  going  there  to  see  if  he's  sold  the  pipe. 
[217] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS  (rising  in  alarm). 
Now? 

JOE. 
Now. 

GLADYS. 
But  his  shop  will  be  closed. 

JOE. 

I'll  find  him.     Those  people  always  live  in  or  be 
hind  or  under  or  over  their  shops.     I'll  find  him. 

GLADYS. 

But  suppose  he's  sold  the  pipe? 

JOE. 

Then  it's  gone. 

GLADYS. 
And  if  not? 

JOE. 
If  not,  I  shall  buy  it  of  him. 

GLADYS. 

But — but,  Joe,  he'll  ask  an  awful  lot  of  money 
for  that  pipe. 

JOE  (grimly). 

Very  probably.     It's  worth  a  lot.     Good-bye. 
[218] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

GLADYS. 

But — Joe,  I'm   afraid   for  you   to  go  down   into 
that  neighbourhood  at  night.     It's  dangerous ! 

JOE. 

Nonsense  I 

GLADYS. 

Take  me  with  you,  then ! 

JOE. 

No,  I  prefer  to  go  alone. 

GLADYS. 

Why? 

JOE. 

Well — I  think — that  is — I  can  do  more  with  him 
if  you — at  least,  if  I'm  alone. 

GLADYS 

(her  alarm  rapidly  increasing). 
Joe,  do  you  think  you'll  have  trouble  with  him? 
Is  that  it?  Oh,  Joe  dear,  don't  go!  I'll  get  your 
pipe  back  somehow,  if  I  have  to  go  down  on  my 
hands  and  knees  for  it,  only  don't — (hysterically) 
don't  go  down  there  and  fight  with  that  man ! 

JOE  (patting  her  hand  reassuringly). 

No,  no !     What  a  nervous  little  woman  it  is  !     I've 

no  intention  of  fighting  with  him,  but  I  may  have 

[219] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

to — well,  to  scare  him,  and  I  can  do  that  better 
if  you're  not  with  me. 

GLADYS. 

Scare  him?     How? 

JOE  (to  himself). 

Jingo!  This  is  more  than  I  bargained  for!  (To 
her.)  Oh,  threaten  him  with  some  legal  process, 
or  something.  Don't  fret  about  it,  Gladys.  I'll 
get  the  pipe  if  it's  there,  but  nobody  will  be  hurt. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  I'm  so  frightened!     Have  you  your  revolver? 

JOE. 

No,  this  stick  will  do. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  please  take  your  revolver,  dear!  It  wouldn't 
be  safe  to  go  down  there  without  it ! 

JOE. 

That  isn't  a  bad  neighbourhood. 

GLADYS. 

It  may  be — at  night.     Please,  dear! 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

JOE. 

I  don't  believe  it's  loaded. 

GLADYS. 

No,  don't  you  remember?  I  made  you  take  out  the 
— the — what-you-may-call-'ems,  and  I  put  them, 
for  safety,  in  a  jeweller's  box  at  the  back  of  my 
top  drawer. 

JOE. 
There  must  be  a  box  of  cartridges  somewhere. 

GLADYS. 

Yes,  they're  there,  too — in  my  top  drawer.  Please 
get  them,  dear. 

JOE. 

All  right — though  there's  no  earthly  need  of  it. 
(He  pauses  at  the  hall  door.)  Your  top  drawer, 
you  say? 

GLADYS. 

Yes;  'way  at  the  back,  under  some  laces — or 
maybe  it's  handkerchiefs.  You'll  find  them,  any 
way. 

(Exit  JOE,  leaving  his  hat,  coat,  and  stick  on  a 
chair  near  the  dining- table.) 

(GLADYS  wanders  about  in  deep  distress,  until  a 
sudden  thought  halts  her  abruptly.  Her 
kindling  glance  turns  toward  the  writing- 
] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

table,    then    toward    the    hall.  She  listens 

keenly   for  an  instant,    eagerly  runs  to   the 

telephone,    seizes    the    receiver  and  speaks 
rapidly. ) 

GLADYS. 

Main  three  seven  one.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  No, 
Main  three  seven  one!  .  .  .  Hello!  Is  that 
the  Union  Club?  ...  Is  Mr.  Fred  Terrill 
there?  ...  If  you  find  him,  ask  him  to  come 
to  the  'phone  at  once,  please.  Hurry!  .  .  . 
(Pause,  during  which  she  taps  her  foot,  glances 
apprehensively  toward  the  hall,  and  frowns.) 
.  .  .  Hello!  Oh,  hello,  Fred!  .  .  .  Yes, 
Gladys.  Oh,  Fred,  I'm  in  the  most  awful  scrape! 
How  much  money  have  you?  .  .  .  What? 
How  much  do  I  want?  .  .  .  Oh, 
seventy-five  or  a  hundred  dollars,  I  suppose. 
Perhaps  more.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  .  You  can 
get  it?  .  .  .  Thank  Heaven!  Then  go  to 
Gortowski's  curio  shop  in  Curtis  Place — it's  not 
far  from  the  club — and  get  Joe's  pipe.  Give  him 
any  sum  he  asks  and  I'll  repay  you  when  I  get  my 
next  allowance.  Run,  Fred !  .  .  .  Joe's  pipe. 
The  meerschaum,  you  know.  .  .  .  Oh,  never 
mind !  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  to-morrow.  .  .  . 
Well,  if  you  must  know,  I  traded  it  for  a  horrid 
old  chair  and  I  must  get  it  back.  .  .  .  Yes, 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

the  one  he  got  in  Heidelberg.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes, 
I  know!  Never  mind  about  that.  Joe's  said  it 
all!  .  .  .  Joe  says  he's  going  down  for  the 
pipe 'to-night,  and  I'm  afraid  he'll  kill  the  man! 
He's  getting  his  revolver  now.  You  must  get 
there  first.  Will  you  go? 

JOE  (from  the  head  of  the  stairs). 
Gladys ! 

GLADYS  (in  'phone). 

Wait  a  minute!  (She  runs  to  the  door.)  Yes, 
Joe? 

JOE. 

I  can't  find  those  cartridges.  It  was  your  revolver 
you  put  in  your  top  drawer. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  so  it  was!  Let  me  think!  .  .  .  Oh  (slowly), 
I  must  have  put  the — er — bullet  things  in  my  bon 
net-box.  The  round  one  on  the  top  shelf — left- 
hand  side — back.  (She  listens  a  moment,  mis 
chievously  smiling,  nods  triumphantly,  and  runs 
back  to  'phone.  As  she  goes,  she  pauses  long 
enough  to  thrust  Joe's  stick  under  the  edge  of  a 
rug.  She  speaks  in  'phone. )  Hello,  Fred !  .  .  . 
Oh,  hello!  Will  you  go?  ...  Oh,  you're  a 
darling!  And  oh,  Fred,  if  you  get  the  pipe, 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

'phone  me  at  once,  won't  you  ?  I'm  nearly  crazy ! 
I'll  keep  him  here  as  long  as  I  can.  He's  hunting 
for  his  cartridges  now,  and  I've  told  him  the 
wrong  place,  so  he  won't  find  them  right  away! 
And  I've  hidden  his  stick.  Run,  Fred!  And — 
hello!  .  .  .  Hello!  .  .  .  Fred!  .  .  . 
Don't  forget  to  'phone  me.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  . 
Yes.  .  .  .  That's  right.  Good-bye.  (She  sighs 
as  she  hangs  up  the  receiver.) 

JOE  comes  m  from  the  hall,  snapping  an  unloaded 
revolver.  Every  time  the  trigger  falls,  she 
starts  apprehensively. 

JOE. 

I  can't  find  those  cartridges,  Gladys,  but  here's 
the  gun.  I  could  run  a  tolerably  successful  bluff 
with  this,  if  it  were  necessary — which  it  won't  be. 
(Takes  up  his  hat  and  coat  and  looks  about  for 
his  stick.)  Where's  my  stick? 

GLADYS. 

Your  stick?  Why — you  brought  it  in  here  with 
you,  didn't  you? 

JOE. 

I  thought  I  did.  Confound  the  thing!  Where 
has  it  gone  to? 

GLADYS. 

Maybe  you  left  it  in  the  hall. 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

JOE. 

No,  don't  you  remember?  When  you  spoke  of  the 
revolver  I  said 

GLADYS. 

You  said  the  stick  would  do,  but  did  you  have  it 
in  your  hand? 

(After  a  moment  spent  in  further  search,  JOE  goes 
into  the  hall.  GLADYS  covers  the  stick  more 
completely  with  the  rug,  making  sure  it  is 
perfectly  concealed,  and  is  once  more  appar 
ently  looking  for  the  missing  cane  when  JOE 
re-enters,  with  a  lighter  one.) 

JOE. 

Never  mind,  Gladys,  this  one  will  do.     Good-bye. 

GLADYS  (firmly). 

No,  Joe ;  if  you  won't  carry  a  loaded  revolver,  you 
must  take  a  heavy  stick.  Now  I  think  of  it,  per 
haps  you  had  the  big  one  in  your  hand  when  you 
started  upstairs  for  the  revolver.  Maybe  you  left 
it  up  there. 

JOE. 

Possibly  I  did.  (He  goes  toward  the  hall  and  pauses 
in  the  doorway.)  By  the  way,  who  telephoned 
just  now? 

[225] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS  (innocently). 
Telephoned  ? 

JOE. 
Yes;  weren't  you  at  the  'phone? 

GLADYS. 

Oh — why — oh,  it  was  Fred,  you  know.  Said  he 
might  be  up  by-and-by.  Why  don't  you  wait  until 
he  comes?  Then  he  can  go  down  with  you  and 
help  intimidate  the  man. 

JOE. 

I  thought  he  was  going  to  take  May  Sloane  and 
her  mother  to  the  opera  to-night.  Said  he  was. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  did  he?  Maybe  he's  coming  up  after — that 
is,  before — at  least — perhaps  she's  sick  and  can't 
go! 

JOE. 

Guess  not.  I  came  up  in  the  car  with  her  to-night, 
and  she  seemed  unusually  lively. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  well,  perhaps  I  misunderstood  Fred.  He  was 
in  a  great  hurry  about  something.  Maybe  he 
said  he  couldn't  come  up  to-night. 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

JOE. 

That's  funny,  too.  You  weren't  expecting  him, 
were  you? 

GLADYS. 

No — yes — oh,  I  don't  know.  Maybe  I  was.  I 
can't  pretend  to  remember  all  the  engagements 
your  brother  makes  and  breaks  with  me! 

JOE  (mournfully). 

Fred  will  feel  mighty  bad  about  this  pipe  business ! 
That  meerschaum  was  the  only  one  of  my  bachelor 
possessions  that  he  envied  me.  (Sighs.)  Well — I 
must  find  that  stick.  (As  he  turns  to  go,  the  tele 
phone  bell  rings.  He  moves  to  answer  it  and 
GLADYS  dexterously  slides  into  the  chair  and  takes 
the  receiver.)  Who's  that? 

GLADYS. 

How  should  I  know  ?  Run  along  and  get  your  stick. 
He'll  have  time  to  sell  that  pipe  four  times  before 
you  get  there  at  this  rate  !  (  JOE  goes  out,  leaving 
hat  and  coat,  as  before,  on  the  chair.  GLADYS 
speaks  eagerly  in  'phone. )  Hello !  .  .  .  Hello ! 
.  .  .  Yes.  Hello,  Fred!  Did  you  get  it? 
.  .  .  What?  .  .  .  Sold?  .  .  .  Not  there! 
Oh,  impossible !  He's  deceiving  you  !  I  gave  it  to 
him  myself,  and  if  he  hasn't  sold  it,  it  must  be — 
.  .  .  What?  ...  Joe!  ...  Oh,  no! 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

There's  some  mistake !  .  .  .  What!  Joe?  Wait 
a  minute.  (Glancing  toward  the  hall,  she  goes  to 
JOE'S  coat,  and  after  feeling  hurriedly  in  several 
pockets,  she  suddenly  pauses.  Her  shoulders  stiffen 
and  her  lips  form  a  rigid  line  as  she  slowly  draws 
forth  a  very  handsome  meerschaum  pipe-bowl, 
attached  to  the  long  stem  affected  by  German  stu 
dents.  She  places  it  very  carefully  on  the  dining- 
table  and  returns,  with  great  dignity  and  delibera 
tion,  to  the  telephone.  When  she  speaks,  her  tone 
is  icy  and  her  enunciation  sharply  precise.)  Very 
well,  Fred.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  is  here.  ...  I  do 
not  know.  Your  brother  has  not  explained.  .  .  . 
Yes.  Thank  you.  .  .  .  Good-bye.  (She  hangs 
up  the  receiver  and  crosses  slowly  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  dining-table,  where  she  sits,  her  back  to 
the  hall  door. ) 

Presently  enter  JOE. 

JOE  (irritably). 

I  can't  find  that  stick  anywhere,  Gladys.  I'm  going 
without  it.  (  Takes  up  his  hat  and  coat  and  goes  to 
the  door.)  Good-bye.  (He pauses  in  the  doorway.) 
Good-bye,  Gladys.  (Save  for  a  barely  perceptible 
twitching  of  the  erect  shoulders,  there  is  no  reply. 
He  steps  toward  her,  and  as  he  does  so  he  catches 
sight  of  the  pipe  lying  on  the  table.  He  pauses^ 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

half  smiling,  in  whimsical  appreciation  of  the  sit 
uation,  drops  his  coat  and  hat,  thrusts  his  hands 
into  his  trousers'  pockets,  looks  at  GLADYS,  at  the 
pipe,  and  at  GLADYS  again.  Whistles,  softly,  three 
ascending  notes,  and  then  attempts  a  debonair 
manner.  Oh — ah,  ha,  ha,  ha!  I  see  you — er — 
you  found  the  pipe !  (  GLADYS  surveys  him  scorn 
fully,  and  an  uneasy  note  creeps  into  his  laugh.) 
Little  joke,  you  see!  Thought  I'd — ha,  ha,  ha! 
Didn't  work,  though !  (Rather  ruefully.)  Might 
have  known  it  wouldn't !  You're  so  deuced  clever, 
you  know!  Ha,  ha — ha — ha.  (Mirthlessly  his 
laugh  dies  out  and  he  regards  her  motionless  figure 
nervously.)  Oh — er — Gladys!  I  say — Gladys! 

GLADYS  (in  a  level  tone). 
Well? 

JOE 

(fingering  the  pipe  for  inspiration). 
Aren't  you  glad  I  got  it? 

GLADYS. 

Very. 

JOE. 

Why  don't  you  exhibit  symptoms  of  joy,  then? 

GLADYS. 

There  are  moments  when  one's  emotions  may  be 
rather  varied.  Since  you  seem  so  well  satisfied  with 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

yourself  and  the  situation  (rising)  I  will  remove 
my  unsympathetic  presence  and  leave  you  to  the 
full  and  complete  enjoyment  of  your  pipe  and — 
your  amusing  reflections !  (As  she  sweeps  toward 
the  door  he  intercepts  her  and  attempts  to  touch  her 
arm.  She  recoils  and  stands  very  erect.) 

JOE. 

Oh,  I  say,  now,  Gladys  !  Don't  be  hard  on  a  fellow  ! 
Maybe  I  did  carry  it  a  trifle  too  far 

GLADYS. 

A  trifle  too  far? 

JOE. 

Well,  you  went  rather  far  yourself,  didn't  you? 

GLADYS. 

Possibly  I  did — but,  at  any  rate,  7  was  truthful !  / 
didn't  stoop  to  petty,  contemptible  deception ! 

JOE. 

Deception  is  rather  a  strong  word  to  apply  to  a 
harmless  little  joke. 

GLADYS. 

And  you  regard  it  only  as  a  "harmless  little  joke" 

to  deceive  your  wife,  to  let  her  make  a  long,  painful 

[230] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

and  entirely   unnecessary  confes — explanation,  to 
hurt  and  humiliate  her  with  your  reproaches,  to 

swear  at  her 

JOE. 
Gladys ! 

GLADYS. 

You  said  damn!    To  frighten  her  nearly  to  death 
with  your  threats 

JOE. 
My  dear  girl,  I  made  no  threats ! 

GLADYS. 

Nor  did  you  go  pawing  through  my  laces  for  your 
revolver,  I  suppose ! 

JOE. 

At  your  request,  however. 

GLADYS  (hysterically  indignant). 
Probably  I  should  have  enjoyed  the  prospect  of 
having  you  killed  by  that  awful  old   Gortowski, 

but 

JOE. 

Gladys,  there  was  no  question   of  killing  nor  of 

fighting,  except  what  existed  in  your  imagination. 

The  plain  facts  in  the  case  are  these.     I  stepped 

[  231  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

into  the  club  to-night  and  met  Delvan.  He  said: 
"Come  on  with  me,  Terrill.  I've  just  heard  of  a 
pipe  that  by  all  accounts  beats  yours,  and  I'm  going 
to  see  it.  Old  Gortowski  got  it  for  me."  So  we 
walked  over  to  Gortowski's  shop,  and  there  we  found 
— my  pipe! 

GLADYS. 

Well? 

JOE. 

Well,  of  course,  we  both  recognised  it  at  once,  and 
I  questioned  the  fellow  sharply.  Little  by  little  he 
told  us  the  principal  facts,  as  you  have  told  them 
to  me  since.  Delvan  knows  a  thing  or  two  himself 
about  antiques  and  curios,  and  he  had  seen  the  chair 
and  knew  it  wasn't  genuine.  So,  together,  we  bul 
lied  and  threatened  the  old  rascal 

GLADYS. 

Threatened  him  with  what? 

JOE  (easily). 

Oh,  with  suit  for  obtaining  money  under  false  pre 
tences,  and — -other  things. 

GLADYS. 

What  other  things?  Joe,  you  have  deceived  me 
long  enough !  Tell  me  the  truth. 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

JOE. 

Well,  you  see,  dear,  the  pipe  was — was  really — 
well — mine,  you  know,  and — he  had — er — had — 
well — received  it — from — from  you,  you  know, 

and 

GLADYS  (hotly). 

In  other  words,  you  accused  him  of  receiving — 
stolen  goods! 

JOE. 

Well,  something  like  that,  I  believe.  Delvan's  a 
lawyer,  too,  you  know,  and  between  us  we  piled  it 
on  rather  strong. 

GLADYS. 

And  so,  for  the  sake  of  a  piece  of  old  meerschaum, 
you've  not  only  lied  to  -your  wife  but  you  have 
branded  her  before  your  friend  and  a  vulgar  curio 
dealer  as — as  a  thief!  Don't  touch  me!  Don't 
dare  to  touch  me ! 

JOE   (contritely). 
Gladys,  my  darling,  what  can  I  say  to  you? 

GLADYS. 

Nothing.     It  is  best  that  you  should  say  nothing. 
Any  explanations  that  you  could  make  would  only 
serve  to  intensify  the  situation.      (She  moves  ma 
jestically  toward  the  door.) 
[233] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE  (desperately). 

But,  Gladys,  you  do  me  great  injustice!  Delvan 
will  tell  you 

GLADYS. 

I  do  not  know  Mr.  Delvan,  nor  do  I  care  to  know 
him,  and  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  he  desires 
to  meet — a  thief,  condemned  by  her  own  husband ! 

JOE. 

But  I  didn't  condemn  you,  dearie!  Delvan  said 

Enter  MOLLY,  carrying  a  box  of  flowers  and  a  note, 
which  she  takes  to  GLADYS. 

MOLLY. 

The  messenger  is  waiting  for  an  answer. 

GLADYS  (reading  the  note). 
"My  dear  Mrs.  Terrill :  Will  you  accept  the  com 
pliments  and  congratulations  of  a  crusty  old — •' 
You  may  go,  Molly.  (  MOLLY  goes  out.  When  the 
door  has  closed  behind  her,  GLADYS  resumes:) — "of 
a  crusty  old  bachelor  who  greatly  desires  to  be  called 
your  friend?  My  compliments  are  due  to  any 
woman  who  is  sufficiently  charming  to  keep  her  hus 
band  romantically  in  love  with  her  after  many  years 
of  married  life,  and  my  congratulations  are  offered 
because  that  fine  fellow,  Terrill,  quarrelled  with  me 
[234] 


A    PIPE    OF    PEACE 

this  afternoon  (  JOE  smiles  broadly)  when,  in  order 
to  obtain  possession  of  that  marvellous  pipe,  I  slan 
dered  you.  I  trust,  however,  that  his  wrath  may 
have  cooled  somewhat  ere  this  (JoE,  still  smiling, 
fills  the  pipe  from  a  pocket-pouch  and  strolls  over 
to  the  writing-table,  where  he  selects,  with  great 
care,  a  spill  from  those  in  the  jar),  and  I  beg,  not 
only  that  you  will  accept  my  apologies  for  this 
afternoon's  calumny,  but  that  you  will  grant  me 
permission  to  call  upon  you  this  evening,  that  he 
and  I  may  smoke  together  a  pipe  of  peace.  (  JOE 
lights  the  spill  in  the  candle-flame.)  Hopefully 
yours,  CHAUNCEY  COLE  DEL  VAN."  (The  note 
flutters  to  the  floor.)  Oh,  Joe! 

(He  quickly  extinguishes  the  burning  spill,  and 
as  he  holds  out  eager  arms  to  her,  she  runs  to 
him  and  hides  her  face  on  his  shoulder.) 

CURTAIN. 


[235] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 


A  CHRISTMAS   CHIME 

A  voice,  a  chime, 
A  cJiant  sublime 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men  ! 

— LONGFELLOW. 


CHARACTERS 

Joseph  Terrill. 
Gladys  Terrill. 
Dolly  Wakelee. 
Ted  Owen. 


The  living-room  in  the  Terr  ills1  country-house 
is  a  large,  comfortable  apartment,  where  dark 
woods,  Oriental  rugs  and  hangings,  wide  window- 
benches,  and  low,  deep-seated  chairs  and  divans, 
combine  to  give  an  air  of  restfulness  and  of  famil 
iar  use.  In  the  early  dusk  of  a  December  afternoon 
blazing  logs  are  supported  by  the  old  andirons  in 
the  fireplace,  and  the  firelight  dances  across  bits  of 
brass,  copper,  and  choice  cloisonne,  reveals  rows  of 
well-worn  bindings  in  many  low  bookcases,  blends 
into  one  white  line  the  keys  of  the  grand  piano,  and 
plays  among  the  shadows  of  the  Christmas  gar 
lands,  holly  wreaths,  and  mistletoe  with  which  the 
room  is  hung. 

JOE  TERBILL,  genial,  kindly,  tender,  but  capable 
of  determined  tenacity  of  purpose,  disposes  his  gen 
erous  length  and  avoirdupois  as  best  he  may  at  the 
top  of  a  shaky  step-ladder,  while  he  suspends  a 
branch  of  mistletoe  from  the  top  of  a  doorway  lead 
ing  to  the  hall.  GLADYS,  his  wife,  stands  on  an  easy- 
chair  near  an  opposite  door,  which  leads  to  the  din 
ing-room,  arranging  vines  over  a  picture-frame. 
She  is  of  medium  height,  slender,  graceful,  impet 
uous,  with  a  musical  voice  and  a  quick  and  captivat 
ing  manner. 

[239] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Their  task  is  almost  finished.  One  or  two  unused 
wreaths  lie  on  a  small  table,  and  the  room  is  more  or 
less  in  disorder. 

GLADYS. 

What  time  is  it,  Joe? 

JOE  (looking  at  his  watch). 
Four  twenty-eight. 

GLADYS. 

Dolly's  train  is  due  in  two  minutes.  I  wonder  if  it 
will  be  on  time  ? 

JOE  (his  mouth  full  of  tacks). 
Ted's  is  due  in  five. 

GLADYS. 

Dear  old  Ted !  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  see  him !  He 
hasn't  been  here  in — how  long  is  it,  Joe?  Three 
months  ? 

JOE. 

Well,  it's  even  longer  than  that  since  we've  seen 
Dolly. 

GLADYS. 

I  suppose  she's  been  too  busy  preparing  her  trous 
seau  to  make  visits.      She  hasn't  even  written  to  me 
for  weeks.     She  accepted  this  invitation  by  postal ! 
[240] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE  (fumbling  in  his  pockets). 
Oh,  by  Jove!     Here's  a  letter  that  came  for  you 
yesterday  and  I  forgot  to  give  it  to  you. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  Joe,  how  could  you ! 

JOE 

(contritely,  scrambling  down  from  the  ladder). 
I'm  sorry,  dear.    It's  from  Dolly,  too. 

GLADYS. 

From  Dolly?  I  hope  she  hasn't  decided  not  to 
come!  (She  takes  the  letter  from  him  and  hastily 
opens  it.)  Not  dated,  of  course !  Just  like  Dolly ! 
(Reads.)  "Dear  Gladys:  Before  I  come  to  you, 
I  think  I'd  better  tell  you—"  Oh,  she's  coming, 
then!  (She  perches  on  an  arm  of  the  chair,  her 
feet  in  the  seat,  and  reads  rapidly  and  indistinctly. 
JOE  returns  to  his  task.)  "Save  us  all  embarrass 
ment  —  m-m-m-m — you  understand — m-m-m-m — 
my  engagement  to  Mr.  Owen — "  Joe! 

JOE. 

Well,  what  is  it?    (GLADYS  reads  on  rapidly,  ignor 
ing  him.)     Gladys!     Gladys  (impatiently,  rejoin- 
[  241  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ing  her),  what's  the  matter?     Can't  you  tell  a  fel 
low? 

GLADYS 

(tragically,  lowering  the  letter.) 
Joe  Terrill,  we're  in  the  most  awful  scrape !     You 
must  wire  Ted  not  to  come.     (She  reads  the  letter 
again. ) 

JOE. 

Wire  Ted  not  to  come !     Why,  my  dear  girl,  he's 
almost  at  the  gate  by  this  time ! 

GLADYS. 

I  can't  help  that.     He  mustn't  come! 

JOE. 

Why  mustn't  he  come?     Isn't  Dolly  coming? 

GLADYS. 

That's  just  it!    Dolly  is  coming! 

JOE. 

Well? 

GLADYS. 

Listen  to  this !  (Reads.)  "Dear  Gladys:  Before 
I  come  to  you,  I  think  I'd  better  tell  you  something 
that  will  perhaps  surprise  you.  It  will  save  us  all 
embarrassment  if  you  and  Joe  understand  before 
I  arrive  that  my  engagement  to  Mr.  Owen  has  been 
•  242  ] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

broken  off.  Please  do  not  question  me,  as  I  prefer 
not  to  talk  about  it,  and  I  have  nothing  further  to 
say  except  that  this  is  final.  I  will  never  forgive 
him!  Never!  Yours,  DOLLY." 

JOE  (slowly,  in  consternation). 
By  the  great  horn  spoon !     What  are  we  going  to 
do?     Didn't  you  tell  Dolly  that  we  had  asked  Ted 
to  come,  also? 

GLADYS. 

Why — I  don't  remember  what  I  said.  No,  of 
course  I  didn't !  If  I  had,  she  wouldn't  be  coming, 
would  she? 

JOE  (impatiently). 

Just  like  a  woman !  Can't  even  state  plainly  a  sim 
ple  invitation  to  spend  Christmas  ! 

GLADYS. 

Well,  it  hasn't  been  necessary  to  tell  her  anything 
about  Ted's  movements  lately.  She's  known  more 
about  his  plans  than  he  has  himself. 

JOE. 

I  know ;  but  there's  always  danger  of  a  situation  like 
this.  A  little  plain,  business  caution  is  never  out 
of  place.  Now,  if  you  had  said 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS  (with  spirit). 

Oh,  well,  there's  no  great  danger,  after  all,  for  of 
course  you  told  Ted  that  we  had  invited  Dclly. 

JOE. 

Er — no — I — I    wrote    rather   hastily,    you    know, 
and 


GLADYS  (  mischievously  ) . 

Yes,  but  there's  always  danger  of  a  situation  like 
this,  you  know,  and  if  you  had  used  a  little  plain, 
business  caution — !  Now,  /  make  no  claim  to  a 
knowledge  of  business  methods,  but  certainly  I  have 
a  right  to  expect  that  you  could  state  plainly  a 
simple  invitation  to  spend  Christmas. 

JOE  (hotly). 

Now,  see  here,  Gladys,  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to 
sit  up  there  and  jeer,  but  a  man  has  rather  too 
many  things  on  his  mind  to  pay  much  attention 

to  social 

GLADYS. 

Now,  Joe,  don't  try  to  crawl  out  through  that  little 
aperture.  You  have  done  it  often  enough,  I  admit, 
to  have  worn  an  easy  passage,  even  for  your  figure, 
but  you  must  have  learned,  also,  that  it  leads  no 
where.  And  as  both  Dolly  and  Ted  will  be  here 
within  ten  minutes,  we  have  something  more  press- 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

ing  to  do  than  to  sit  here  and  revile  each  other. 
(She  steps  down  from  the  chair  and  joins  him.) 
The  question  before  the  house  is,  what  are  we  going 
to  do  with  them? 

JOE. 

There's  only  one  thing  to  do.  Dolly's  the  ag 
gressor  ;  Dolly  must  go. 

GLADYS. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  how  you  make  that 
out. 

JOE. 

Dolly  broke  the  engagement.  If  she  hadn't  done 
that,  there  would  have  been  no  such  situation ;  ergo, 
Dolly  is  responsible  and  must  bear  the  consequences. 

GLADYS. 

But  if  Dolly  broke  the  engagement,  it  was  because 
Ted  was  unendurable. 

JOE. 

Oh,  I  don't  know.  My  knowledge  of  Dolly  would 
lead  me  to  suspect  that  it  might  have  been  because 
he  wore  a  blue  cravat,  or  because  he  said  he  liked 
terrapin. 

GLADYS. 
You  never  were  fair  to  Dolly  !     She's  capricious ;  I 

admit  that  frankly 

[  245  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE  (drily). 
Thanks  for  the  concession ! 

GLADYS. 

But  she's  not  unjust,  and  if  she  found  it  necessary 
to  break  her  engagement  to  Ted,  it  was  because 

JOE. 

Now,  see  here,  Gladys,  Ted's  a  gentleman,  isn't  he  ? 

GLADYS  (promptly). 

Yes. 

JOE. 

And  an  uncommonly  thoughtful  and  unselfish  fel 
low,  isn't  he  ? 

GLADYS. 

Y-yes. 

JOE. 

And  head  over  heels  in  love  with  Dolly,  isn't  he? 

GLADYS. 

We-ell— 

JOE. 

Honor,  now,  Gladys ! 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  yes  (impatiently),  yes,  I  suppose  so! 
[  246  ] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE. 

And  Dolly  is — well,  call  it  capricious,  isn't  she? 

GLADYS  (reluctantly). 
Yes. 

JOE. 

And  inclined  to  look  with  impartial  favour  on  the 
sons  of  Adam? 

GLADYS  (with  spirit). 
Dolly  is  not  a  flirt ! 

JOE  (mildly). 
Oh,  isn't  she?    Well — I  didn't  say  she  was,  did  I? 

GLADYS. 

N-no,  not  exactly. 

JOE. 

And  it  stands  to  reason  that  if  Dolly  and  Ted  have 
had  a  few  words  and  parted,  it  was  not  Ted's  fault. 

GLADYS  (resentfully). 

I  never  saw  anything  like  the  esprit  du  corps  of  you 
men!  You'll  quarrel  bitterly  among  yourselves, 
but  if  it  comes  to  a  question  of  simple  justice  be 
tween  a  man  and  a  woman,  you'll  take  it  for  granted 
that  the  man  is  right,  without  making  the  slightest 
[247] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

inquiry  into  the  matter,  and  you'll  stand  by  that 
man  through  thick  and  thin,  right  or  wrong,  to 
the  bitter  end,  j  ust  because  he  is  a  man ! 

JOE  (coolly). 

Thanks.  I'm  glad  to  see  that  even  in  the  heat  of 
something  approaching  anger,  you  can  still  be  just 
to  us,  and  I  regret  that  I  cannot  remember  having 
found  (with  a  deprecatory  smile),  in  other  mem 
bers  of  your  sex,  the  quality  that  you  so  generously 
attribute  to  mine.  However,  that's  neither  here  nor 
there.  As  you  said  a  few  moments  ago,  we  have  no 
time  to  exchange  compliments.  We  must  decide 
what  we  are  going  to  do. 

GLADYS  (looking  out  a  window). 
Too  late!     There  comes  the  carriage,  and  Dolly's 
in  it! 

JOE  (looking  out  another  window). 
And  there  comes  Ted  from  the  other  station  in  the 
trap. 

GLADYS. 
Well,  you'll  have  to  explain  to  Ted 

JOE. 

I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort !    If  there  are  to  be  any 
explanations,  you'll  make  them — to  Dolly. 
[  248  ] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

GLADYS. 

Joe,  I  can't  send  Dolly  away.  She  was  my  brides 
maid. 

JOE. 

You  seem  to  have  forgotten  that  Ted  was  my  best 
man. 

GLADYS  (almost  in  tears). 

If  Ted  stays,  Dolly  and  I  will  have  our  meals  served 
in  our  rooms.  I  will  not  have  her  subjected  to  his 
persecutions ! 

JOE  (gravely). 

You  will,  of  course,  do  as  you  think  best,  but  I 
should  feel  it  a  serious  affront  if  my  wife  refused 
to  receive  a  guest  whom  I  had  invited  to  our 
house.  (The  door-bell  rings.) 

GLADYS  (nervously). 
There  she  is !    Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

JOE. 

Once  for  all,  Gladys,  Ted  stays !  (He  removes  step- 
ladder,  etc.) 

Enter  from  the  hall  DOLLY  WAKELEE,  a  small,  im 
pulsive,  imperative  young  woman,  whose  fair 
hair  curls  softly  over  a  pink-and-white  blossom 
face,  and  whose  merry  mouth  is  surrounded  by 
[249] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

twinkling  dimples,  the  radiance  of  which  is 
only  faintly  dimmed  by  her  somewhat  pensive 
bearing.  She  is  in  travelling  dress  and  wears 
furs. 

GLADYS  (running  to  meet  her). 
Oh,  you  dear  thing! 

DOLLY. 

Oh,  Gladys ! 

GLADYS  (kissing  her). 
I  thought  your  train  would  never  come ! 

DOLLY. 

The  old  thing  just  poked!  It  stopped  every  time 
there  was  a  board  off  the  fence ! 

GLADYS 

(unfastening  DOLLY'S  wraps). 
Such  ages  since  we've  seen  you ! 

DOLLY. 

Perfect  aeons! 

GLADYS. 

I'm  so  glad  you  could  come !  You're  such  a  popu 
lar  young  person,  we  feared  our  invitation  might 
be  too  late. 

JOE  (in  the  background). 

Aren't  you  going  to  give  me  a  chance  to  say  a 
word  to  Dolly,  Gladys? 

[250] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 
GLADYS. 

Oh,  of  course!  Joe's  been  so  impatient  for  your 
arrival,  Dolly !  He's  looked  at  his  watch  every  ten 
minutes  for  the  last  hour. 

DOLLY  (shaking  hands  with  JOE). 

Joe's  good  to  me  always.  I'll  never  be  able  to  tell 
you  (pensively)  what  a  relief  it  is  to  be  down  here 
to-day !  (  The  door-bell  rings. ) 

GLADYS 

(starting  nervously  and  looking  at  JOE). 

Oh,  we're  delighted !  Simply  delighted  to  have  you 
here  all  to  ourselves,  you  know.  (She  makes  frantic 
signals  to  JOE,  who  is  wilfully  obtuse,  to  intercept 
TED.)  Katie  took  your  bag,  didn't  she?  Let's  go 
right  up  to  your  room,  where  you  can  lay  aside 
your  wraps. 

JOE. 

Perhaps  you'd  better  explain  to  Dolly  before  she 
takes  off  her  things 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  we  shall  have  plenty  of  time  for  explanations 
and  arrangements. 

[  251  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE. 

That  other  train  goes  in  half  an  hour,  you  know. 

GLADYS 

(tramfixwg    him    with    a    glare,    but    speaking 
lightly  ) . 

Yes,  I  know ;  but  it's  too  cold  to  go  out  again.  I'm 
sure  Dolly's  had  all  the  drive  that  she  wants  to-day. 
You'd  better  send  one  of  the  men  (with  significant 
emphasis)  to  the  train  with  that  letter. 

JOE. 

What  letter? 

GLADYS. 

The  one  that  you  expected  Dolly  and  me  to  mail  at 
the  train,  dearie!  Come,  Dolly;  we'll  go  this  way 
— through  the  dining-room. 

TED  (in  the  hall). 

In  the  living-room,  Katie?  All  right;  I  know  the 
way. 

DOLLY  (pausing,  startled). 
Whose  voice  is  that? 

GLADYS  (hurriedly). 

That?  Oh,  that's — that's  a  man  who  has  come  to 
see  Joe  about — about  game.  He's  been  trespass- 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

ing.  He  won't  be  here  long.  Joe  will  send  him 
away.  Come,  Dolly,  come !  This  way  ! 

DOLLY  (uncertainly). 
It  sounded  like 

GLADYS. 

Yes,  yes,  it  sounded  like — like  a  gentleman's  voice, 
didn't  it?  He  is  a  very  superior  sort  of  a  tres 
passer.  Don't  be  too  tender-hearted,  Joe,  and  make 
him  understand  (meaningly)  that  this  must  not 
continue. 

(Exit  GLADYS,  pushing  DOLLY  before  her  to  the 
dining-room. ) 

JOE. 

Whew! 

Enter  from  the  hall  TED  OWEN,  a  frank,  energetic, 
vigorous  young  fellow,  whose  naturally  hearty 
manner  is  somewhat  subdued  by  the  weight  of 
a  heavy  heart. 

JOE  (cordially). 
Hello,  old  man! 

TED  (shaking  hands). 
Hello,  Joe! 

JOE. 

I'm  mighty  glad  you've  come,  old  chap !    We  were 

afraid  you  might  have  some  other  engagement.    It 

[253] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

would  have  broken  Gladys  all  up,  you  know.  Act 
ually,  she's  been  trying  to  hurry  the  clock  for  three 
hours ! 

TED  (nervously  walking  about). 
Thanks.     Gladys  is  always  good  to  me.     You  and 
she   are  the   right  sort.     I — er — has  she  heard — 
that  is — is  she  well  ? 

JOE. 
Fine  as  a  fiddle ! 

TED. 

That's  good !  I — er — have  you  had  any — that  is — 
many  guests  lately? 

JOE. 

No,  and  we  were  saying  just  before  you  arrived 
that  it  was  months  since  you'd  been  here. 

TED. 

Yes.  Er — Joe,  old  man,  have  you — have  you  any 
thing  to  smoke? 

JOE. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  Ted!  Here  (offers  cigarette- 
case),  or  do  you  prefer  a  cigar? 

TED. 

Oh,  thanks !  (  Takes  cigarette  and  absently  thrusts 
it  into  his  vest-pocket,  to  JOE'S  manifest  amaze- 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

ment.)     I  wonder — has  Gladys  heard  from — that 
is — have  you  heard  the  latest  news  from  China  ? 

JOE. 

Still  looks  pretty  squally,  doesn't  it? 

TED. 

Yes,  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  she  won't  accept  any 
explanation. 

JOE. 
Eh? 

TED  (groaning). 
Oh,  by  Jove,  I  hoped  she'd  told  you  about  it ! 

JOE. 

Who? 

TED. 

Dolly. 

JOE. 

(a  sudden  light  of  comprehension  in  his  face). 

Oh!     She  has!     Oh,  yes,  she  has.     Awfully  sorry, 
old  man !    (  They  shake  hands  solemnly. ) 

TED. 

Does  Gladys  know? 

JOE. 

Gladys  knows.     Oh,  yes,  Gladys  knows! 
[  255  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

TED  (sighing). 

Oh,  that's  all  right,  then !  I  dreaded  to  tell  her,  for 
she  and — and  Miss  Wakelee  are  such  friends,  I 
feared 

JOE  (with  exaggerated  cordiality). 
Surely  you  didn't  think  that  Gladys  would  blame 
you?      You?     Oh,  come,  now,  Ted !     Gladys  blame 
you? 

TED. 
Then  she  doesn't  think ? 

JOE. 

Oh,  no,  she — that  is — she — oh,  here  she  comes! 
(Sighs  deeply  and  wipes  his  brow.) 

Enter  GLADYS  from  the  dining-room. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  here's  Ted!  How  do  you  do?  (She  looks  in 
quiringly  at  JOE,  who  vigorously  shakes  his  head.) 

TED. 

How  do,  Gladys?  It's  very  good  of  you  to  ask  me 
down  here  to-day  under  the  circumstances.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  I  appreciate  it. 

GLADYS. 

Then  Joe  hasn't  told  you 

[256] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE  (hastily). 

No,  I  haven't  had  time  to  tell  him.  The  fact  is, 
Ted,  Gladys  and  I — er — Gladys  and  I — (sudden 
ly)  want  you  to  spend  every  Christmas  with  us ! 
We  consider  you  quite  one  of  the  family,  you  know, 
and  we  simply  won't  take  no  for  an  answer !  Every 
Christmas,  old  man ! 

TED. 

Now,  that's  mighty  good  of  you,  Gladys !  That's 
what  I  call  friendship!  (GLADYS  perfunctorily 
smiles  at  him,  but  her  glance  at  JOE  is  thorny.) 

JOE. 

Then  you'll  do  it? 

TED. 

You  may  count  on  me  every  time! 

JOE. 
Good! 

GLADYS. 

But  this  year,  Ted 

JOE  (hastily). 

Yes,  this  year  we  should  have  been  heart-broken — 

simply  heart-broken,  if  you  couldn't  have  come! 

By  the  way,  you  haven't  seen  our  new  team,  have 

[257] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

you?     Don't  you  want  to  go  out  to  the  stable  and 
take  a  look  at  them? 


TED. 

Delighted. 

JOE. 

Come  on,  then ;  Gladys  will  excuse  us.  (He  hurries 
TED  into  the  hall,  and  pauses  at  the  door,  speaking 
cautiously  to  GLADYS.)  Have  you  told  her? 

GLADYS  (spiritedly). 

Indeed,  I've  not !  If  you  don't  tell  him  soon,  he'll 
miss  his  train. 

JOE. 

I  intend  that  he  shall  miss  it!  (Exit  JOE.) 

(GLADYS  makes  a  little  gesture  of  weariness  and 
despair. ) 

Enter  DOLLY  from  dining-room. 

DOLLY. 

Where's  Joe  ?    I  thought  I  heard  his  voice. 

GLADYS. 

He's  gone  out  to  the  stable  to  see  the  new  team. 
[258] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

DOLLY  (with  enthusiasm). 
Oh,  let's  go,  too !    I  simply  adore  horses ! 

GLADYS. 

We'll  go  later — to-morrow,  I  mean.  It's  too  cold 
now. 

DOLLY  (strolling  about). 
Do  you  mind  cold  ?    I  don't. 

GLADYS   (shivering  ostentatiously). 
Oh,  yes,  I  can't  stand  it  at  all. 

DOLLY. 

How  odd !  ( She  approaches  the  window,  and 
pauses,  looking  out. )  Gladys,  who's  that  with  Joe  ? 

GLADYS. 

With  Joe!  (She  hurriedly  draws  DOLLY  away 
from  the  window.)  Oh,  it's  just  the  man  I  told  you 
about ;  the  horse  man. 

DOLLY  (trying  to  look  out). 

The  horse  man?     What  horse  man?     You  didn't 
say  anything  about  a  horse  man. 
[259] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Why,  yes,  I  did !  The  man  who  came  to  see  Joe, 
you  know. 

DOLLY. 

You  didn't  say  a  word  about  a  horse  man.  If  you 
had,  I  should  have  stayed.  I  adore  horses.  You 
said  a  trespasser. 

GLADYS. 

Did  I?  Oh,  yes,  of  course!  Well,  he  is  a  tres 
passer.  He's  a  horse  man,  and  he's  been  letting  his 
horses  get  into  our  field,  and  that  (triumphantly)  is 
trespass,  you  know ! 

DOLLY. 

Oh !    Well,  what  had  that  to  do  with  game? 

GLADYS. 

Game  ? 

DOLLY. 

Yes,  you  said  something  about  game. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  no !    No,  I  didn't,  Dolly. 

DOLLY  (positively). 

You  said  that  man  had  come  to  see  Joe  about  game. 
[  260  ] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

GLADYS 

(disconcerted  for  an  instant). 

Oh,  I — I — why,  no,  I  didn't,  Dolly;  I  said  claim! 
Joe's  claim — for  damages,  you  know.  C,  1,  a,  i,  m, 
claim! 

DOLLY  (eyeing  her  incredulously). 
Oh,  did  you  ?    (  Turns  toward  window. ) 

GLADYS  (detaining  her). 

Of  course  I  did !  What  a  dear  little  ring,  Dolly ! 
Where  did  you  get  it? 

DOLLY. 

Why,  don't  you  remember?  Ted — at  least — Mr. 
Owen  gave  it  to  me,  long  before  we  were — that  is,  a 
long  time  ago. 

GLADYS. 

Why,  Dolly  !    Didn't  you  send  back  his  gifts? 

DOLLY  (indignantly). 

Certainly  I  did!  But  this  little  ring  (pensively) 
was — different !  It  was  the  first  thing  he  ever  gave 
me,  and  I  promised  him  ( tremulously )  that  no  mat 
ter  what  came,  I  would  always  wear  it,  so — so  I 
had  to  keep  my  promise,  you  know. 
[261] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Then  this  is  just  a  tiff? 

DOLLY. 

Not  at  all !  This  is  the  end  of  everything !  (  Trag 
ically.  )  Everything !  Why,  Gladys,  what  do  you 
suppose  he  did  ? 

GLADYS. 

What  did  he  do? 

DOLLY. 

Well,  you  know  that  horrid  little  fox-terrier  he's  so 
fond  of? 

GLADYS. 

Blitzen ;  yes. 

DOLLY. 

I  heard  him  say,  one  day,  that  nothing  but  death 
should  ever  separate  him  from  that  dog,  so — just 
for  fun — I  pretended  to  take  a  dislike  to  the  beast, 
and  asked  him  to  give  it  away,  and,  Gladys,  he  re 
fused — point-blank ! 

GLADYS. 

Of  course  he  did ! 

DOLLY. 

Well,  I  don't  see  any  "of  course"  about  it !  I  was 
only  in  fun  at  first,  but  after  that,  I  thought  I'd 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

find  out,  once  for  all,  which  he  cared  most  for,  the 
dog  or  me,  and — well,  I  found  out !  And  it  wasn't 
me! 

GLADYS. 

Dolly  Wakelee!  You  quarrelled  with  Ted  and 
broke  your  engagement  just  because  he  wouldn't 
yield  to  a  silly,  selfish  whim  like  that? 

DOLLY  (with  dignity). 

I  broke  my  engagement  because  I  have  no  intention 
of  marrying  a  man  who  would  hold  me  second  to 
his  dog !  If  it  had  been  his  horse,  I  might  have  en 
dured  it — but  his  dog!  (Under  GLADYS'S  disap 
proving  glance  she  grows  resentful.)  You  don't 
mean  to  say  that  you  would  have  submitted  to  such 
treatment ! 

GLADYS. 

When  you've  had  a  little  more  experience,  Dolly, 
and  know  men  better,  you'll  learn  to  appreciate 

DOLLY  (pettishly). 

Oh,  don't  assume  any  matronly  affectations  with 
me,  Gladys!  You're  only  two  years  my  senior. 
And  you  know  perfectly  well  (tearfully)  that  it 
was  brutal  of  Ted !  Simply  brutal !  Joe  will  un 
derstand.  (She  weeps  disconsolately.) 
[263] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
GLADYS. 

Joe  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort !  He'll  tell  you,  as 
I  do,  that  you're  a  very  silly  girl  to  let  a  thing  like 
that  separate  you  from  a  man  like  Ted  Owen,  and 
advise  you  to  apologise  at  once,  before  it  is  too  late. 

DOLLY. 

I  apologise?  To  Ted?  Not  for  anything  in  the 
world !  Not  if  he  begged  me  on  his  bended  knees. 

GLADYS   (shortly). 

Well,  he  won't!  Ted's  not  that  sort.  (Jos  and 
TED  are  heard  talking  outside.)  Here  come  the 
men.  Let's  go  upstairs. 


DOLLY  (mutinously). 
No,  let's  don't !    I've  hardly  seen  Joe  at  all. 

GLADYS 

(regarding  her  with  critical  deliberation). 

Well,  if  I  were  you,  I  should  hardly  want  to  see  him 
in  that  plight.    Your  hair  is  mussed,  and  your  eyes 

are  swollen,  and  your  nose  is 

[264] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

DOLLY  (furiously). 
Gladys,  you're  simply  horrid  to-day ! 

(Exit    hurriedly    to    dining-room,    followed    by 
GLADYS.  ) 

(Enter  JOE  and  TED  from  hall,  disputing.) 

TED. 

But  I  tell  you  it  was  simply  a  whim,  and  I  wouldn't 
cast  off  a  good  dog  for  any  woman's  caprice. 

JOE. 

If  you're  going  to  be  as  stiff-necked  as  all  that, 
you'd  better  get  you  to  a  monastery,  where  you 
won't  have  women  to  deal  with!  All  charming 
women  have  whims— if  they  hadn't,  they  wouldn't 
be  so  charming — and  any  man  ought  to  be  glad  to 
gratify  them — when  they're  not  too  unreasonable. 

TED. 

But  this  was  too  unreasonable ! 

JOE. 

Pooh !  Nonsense !  I  don't  blame  her  in  the  least. 
Naturally,  she  wanted  to  think  she  was  first  in  your 
affections.  You  should  have  encouraged  her — 
diplomatically — instead  of  flying  off  the  handle  in 
that  hot-headed  fashion. 

[265] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

TED. 

I  suppose  I  should  have  sent  poor  old  Blitzen  to  the 
pound, too? 

JOE. 

Oh,  stuff !  She  didn't  want  you  to  send  him  to  the 
pound !  She  merely  wanted  to  be  sure  that  you 
would  send  him  there,  if  she  should  ask  it.  Now, 
you  go  and  apologise  at  once,  before  it's  too  late. 

TED. 

I?     Apologise?     Not  much! 

JOE. 

Now,  don't  be  a  donkey,  Ted ! 

TED  (stiffly). 

I  do  apologise  to  you,  however.  I  have  evidently 
made  a  grave  mistake.  I  came  down  here  under  the 
impression  that  I  was  coming  to  friends  who  would 
understand  my  position  and  sympathise  with  my 
point  of  view.  I  still  hope  that  Gladys  will 

JOE. 

Gladys  will  tell  you,  as  I  do,  that  you're  making  a 
blooming  idiot  of  yourself,  and  that  you'd  better 
make  your  peace  while  you  can. 
[  266  ] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

TED. 

Since  you  entirely  fail  to  grasp  the  situation,  you 
will  pardon  me  if  I  do  not  heed  your  advice ! 

(Exit  stiffly  to  hall.) 

Enter  GLADYS  from  dining-room. 

GLADYS. 

Well,  of  all  the  silly  performances ! 

JOE. 

What's  the  matter  now? 

GLADYS. 

Dolly  has  just  told  me  the  story  of  the  quarrel. 

JOE. 

Sheer  idiocy,  isn't  it  ? 

GLADYS. 

You  know? 

JOE. 

Yes,  Ted  told  me. 

GLADYS. 

So  foolish ! 

JOE. 

Absolutely  senseless ! 

[  267  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

And  selfish ! 

JOE. 
That's  what  I  told  him. 

GLADYS. 

I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible. 

JOE. 

I  hope  you  told  her  what  you  thought  of  it. 

GLADYS. 
I  did  that! 

JOE. 

Ted's  in  a  towering  rage  with  me. 

GLADYS. 

Ted  in  a  rage  ?    What  about  ? 

JOE. 

Because  I  told  him  plainly  that  he  was  an  ass,  and 
advised  him  to  go  and  make  his  peace  on  any  terms, 
as  soon  as  she'd  let  him. 

GLADYS. 

Advised  him  to — Joe  Terrill!  You  sympathise 
with  her? 

[268] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE. 

Of  course  I  do !    Who  wouldn't  ? 

GLADYS. 

Well,  I  wouldn't! 

JOE. 

You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  think  there's  any 
sense  in  his  attitude ! 

GLADYS. 

I  think  he  was  entirely  right.  Why  should  he  sac 
rifice  his  dear  old  dog  just  to  satisfy  a  silly,  vain 
little  impulse  of  hers? 

JOE. 

On  the  contrary,  if  he  can't  yield  gracefully  to  a 
trifling  little  request  like  that,  he'd  better  not  hope 
to  make  her  happy. 

GLADYS. 

But  it's  so  senseless !  If  she  had  any  earthly  reason 
for  it 

JOE. 

She  had  her  own  reason,  probably ;  and  if  a  man's 
going  to  stop  to  find  a  reason  that  appeals  to  him 
for  everything  a  woman  asks  of  him,  he'd  better  re 
main  a  bachelor !  Dolly  has  her  caprices,  of  course, 
but  she's  very  sweet  about  them. 

[269] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  you  men !  A  pretty,  insipid  face,  with  a  dimple 
or  two  in  it,  will  make  putty  of  the  best  of  you! 
I'd  like  to  find  a  man  who  could  be  true  to  a  friend, 
no  matter  how  many  pink  cheeks  beguiled ! 

JOE. 

WI>en  you  find  him,  he'll  be  the  husband  of  a  consist 
ent  woman. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  of  course !  You  change  your  mind ;  I'm  incon 
sistent  !  But  I  want  to  know  what  we're  going  to 
do  with  them.  Here  they  are,  both  under  our  roof, 
and  the  last  train's  gone.  You  may  humour  Dolly 
if  you  like,  but  I  refuse  to  be  a  party  to  any  of  her 
nonsense,  and  I  shall  see  that  Ted's  not  slighted,  at 
any  rate. 

JOE. 

My  dear  girl,  Ted's  a  man  and  can  take  care  of 
himself.  He  has  the  stable  and  the  grounds  and  the 
billiard-room  at  his  disposal,  and  a  little  time  for 
ur  interrupted  reflection  will  be  salutary  in  his  pres 
ent  frame  of  mind ;  but  Dolly,  poor  little  girl,  is  in 
trouble  and  needs  your  sympathy. 

GLADYS. 

Well,  she  hasn't  aroused  it  to  any  appreciable  ex 
tent,  as  yet! 

[270] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE   (  persuasively  ) . 

Gladys,  you  mustn't  neglect  Dolly.    It  wouldn't  be 
decent.     She's  your  guest. 

GLADYS  (obstinately). 
So  is  Ted. 

Enter  DOLLY,   hastily,  from  the  hall,  carryh.j  a 
man's  hat. 

DOLLY  (tragically). 
Whose  hat  is  this? 

JOE. 
That  ?    Oh,  that — that's  mine,  you  know. 

DOLLY  (sarcastically). 

And  those  are  your  initials,  are  they?     T.  J.  O. 
stands  for  Joseph  Corbin  Terrill,  I  suppose? 

JOE. 

Oh,  T.  J.— oh,  yes,  that's— that's  Ted's  hat,  you 
know. 

DOLLY. 
And  he  is  here  ? 

JOE 
(looking  imploringly  at   GLADYS,   who  is   stonily 

silent ) . 

Why — er — that  is — yes,  he's  here,  Dolly,  but  you 
needn't  see  him. 

[271] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

DOLLY   (to  GLADYS). 

And  this  is  what  you  asked  me  down  here  for — to 
confront  me  with  this  man,  and  subject  me  to  this 
humiliation!  I  suppose  you  thought  you  could 
force  me  to 

JOE  (soothingly). 
No,  no,  Dolly !    Really,  we  didn't  know 

DOLLY  (wrathfully). 

Oh,  no,  of  course  you  didn't  know !  I  hadn't  writ 
ten  to  Gladys,  explaining  it  all! 

JOE. 

But  you  see,  I 

DOLLY. 

Oh,  this  is  unendurable!  Unfortunately,  the  last 
train  has  gone,  but  I  will  remain  in  my  room  until 
there  is  an  opportunity  to  get  away,  and  I  shall  be 
grateful  for  the  privilege  of  remaining  there — 
alone!  (Exit  to  dining-room.) 

GLADYS. 

There !    You  see  how  sweet  and  reasonable  she  is ! 

Enter  TED  from  hall,  carrying  a  lady\  handker 
chief. 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

TED   (sternly). 
Whose  handkerchief  is  this? 


GLADYS  (smiling  confidently). 
That?    Oh,  that — that's  mine,  you  know. 

TED 

(displaying  embroidered  initials  in  the  corner). 
D.  W.  stands  for  Gladys  Terrill,  does  it? 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  well,  maybe  it  is  Dolly's.  She  may  have  left  it 
here. 

TED. 

I  found  it  in  the  hall  just  now,  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  flying  petticoats  at  the  same  time.  Is 
she  here?  In  this  house? 

GLADYS  (laughing  nervously). 
Why — what  a  singular  notion,  Ted!     (She  looks 
pleadingly  at  JOE,  who  regards  her  with  a  sardonic 
smile. ) 

TED. 

Do  me  the  honour  to  tell  me  the  truth,  if  you  please. 
Is  she  here  ? 

[273] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
GLADYS   (weaUy). 


Y-yes,  but- 


TED  (angrily  to  JOE). 

And  this  is  the  reason  for  your  sudden  invitation 
to  spend  Christmas  with  you,  is  it?  You  thought 
you'd  get  me  down  here  where  your  roof  would 
prove  an  obligation,  and  where  the  lack  of  trans 
portation  facilities  would  prevent  flight,  and  force 
me  to  adopt  the  course  you  had  laid  out  for  me ! 

JOE  (wearily). 
My  dear  fellow,  we  didn't 

TED. 

A  very  pretty  scheme,  but  you  forgot  one  little  de 
tail.  "One  man  may  lead  a  pony  to  the  brink,  but 
twenty  thousand  cannot  make  him  drink !"  Unfor 
tunately,  circumstances  compel  me  to  accept  your 
hospitality  for  a  few  hours  longer,  but  I  shall  en 
deavour  to  encroach  upon  your  other  guests  as  little 
as  possible.  (Exit  TED  to  hall.) 

JOE   (mildly). 

Amiable  young  man!  What  girl  could  refuse  an 
invitation  to  live  with  that  temper  ?  So  gentle !  So 
considerate !  So  just ! 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

GLADYS. 

Well,  it's  all  your  fault,  anyway !  If  you  had 
given  me  that  letter  when  it  arrived,  we  might  have 
been  spared  all  this ! 

JOE. 

If  you'd  take  a  firm  stand  with  Ted,  it  would  all 
smooth  out  now. 

GLADYS. 

You  try  taking  a  firm  stand  with  Dolly. 

JOE. 

Don't  want  to.    Dolly's  all  right. 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  of  course !  Dolly's  young  and  pretty — and  she 
has  dimples — so  it's  not  of  the  least  consequence 
that  she  has  neither  right  nor  reason  on  her  side! 
That's  what  it  is  to  belong  to  the  logical  sex ! 

JOE. 

But  you  see,  Dolly  is 

GLADYS. 

Oh,  yes,  Dolly's  this  and  Dolly's  that !     One  would 
think,  to  hear  you,  that  you  were  more  than  half  in 
love  with  Dolly  yourself !     It's  to  be  regretted  that 
you  didn't  marry  a  woman  of  that  type  ! 
[  275  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

JOE  (in  exasperation). 
I  did! 

GLADYS  (incredulously). 
What? 

JOE  (doggedly). 
I  did. 

GLADYS. 

Joseph  Terrill !  I  have  forgiven  you  many  things, 
but  this  is  the  last  straw !  I  will  never  forgive  you  ! 
Never!  Moreover,  I  will  have  no  further  connec 
tion  with  this  affair.  I  will  go  to  my  room  and  re 
main  there  until  your  friend,  Miss  Wakelee,  has  de 
parted!  (Exit  GLADYS,  furiously,  to  hall.) 

JOE. 

Whew!  "Hark,  the  herald  angels  sing!"  (Sits,  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  and  clasps  his  head  in  his 
hands. )  And  this  is  Christmas  Eve ! 

Enter  TED  from  hall. 

TED. 

I  can't  find  my  hat.    Did  I  leave  it 

Enter  DOLLY  from  dining-room. 

DOLLY. 

Oh,  Joe,  did  I  leave  my  handkerchief 

[276] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE 

(as  his  guests  stare  at  each  other). 
Oh,  Lord!  (Exit  JOE,  precipitately.) 

TED  (awkwardly). 
Gh — er — how  de  do? 

DOLLY  (nervously). 
Good  morn — afternoon. 

TED. 

Er — nice    day.      (Pause.)      You — er — you   came 
down  to  spend  Christmas? 

DOLLY. 
Yes. 

TED. 

So  did  I. 

DOLLY. 

Ah? 

TED. 

You  don't  mind? 

DOLLY. 

Mind! 

TED. 

Yes,  you — perhaps  you'd  rather  I  hadn't  come? 
[277] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

DOLLY  (coldly). 
Well — you're  here  now,  you  know. 

TED  (dejectedly). 
Yes,  so  I  am ! 

DOLLY  (suggestively). 
And — I'm  here,  too. 

TED  (brightening). 
That's  so ! 

DOLLY  (nervously,  after  a  pause). 
How — how's  Blitzen? 

TED  (gruffly). 
Blitzen's  all  right! 

DOLLY. 
I  wish — I  wish  I  had  a — a  dog. 

TED  (eagerly). 
What  kind  of  a  dog? 

DOLLY  (archly). 

I — I  think  I'd  like  a — a  fox-terrier. 
[278] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

TED. 

Dolly! 

Enter  JOE  from  hall. 

JOE 

(hastily  interposing  himself  between  DOLLY  and 
TED). 

Oh,  by  Jove!  Dolly,  let's  go  and  take  a  walk. 
Wouldn't  you  like  to  take  a  walk  ?  (  TED  looks  anx 
ious.) 

DOLLY. 
No,  thanks,  not  to-night.     (TED  looks  relieved.) 

JOE. 

Don't  you  want  to  go  to  the  stable  to  see  the  new 
team?  You're  so  fond  of  horses.  (TED  fidgets.) 

DOLLY. 

I?  I  hate  horses !  (  JOE  looks  bewildered  and  TED 
smiles  ecstatically.) 

Enter  GLADYS  from  hall. 

GLADYS  (in  dismay). 

Oh,  good  gracious!     (She  goes  hastily  to  a  small 

table  and  takes  up  a  wreath.)     Ted,  will  you  help 

[  279  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

me  put  up  this  wreath?  We  haven't  quite  finished 
decorating. 

TED 

(glancing  wistfully  at  DOLLY). 
With  pleasure.     (He  joins  her,  while  JOE  engages 
DOLLY  in  conversation.) 

GLADYS. 

Thanks  so  much!  (Quietly  to  him.)  Poor  old 
Ted !  I'm  so  sorry  about  this  wretched  affair !  But 
you  may  depend  upon  me  to  do  all  I  can  to  help 
you. 

TED. 

I'm  sure  of  that,  Gladys.  (  They  continue  their  con 
versation,  trying  the  wreath  in  various  positions. ) 

JOE  (sympathetically  to  DOLLY). 
This  is  pretty  hard  on  you,  little  girl,  but  you  may 
count  on  me  to  help  you  through  anything!     I'll 
do  all  I  can  to  make  it  easier  for  you.     (  DOLLY  calls 
out  all  her  dimples. ) 

GLADYS  (hammer  in  hand). 

Why,  of  course  I  can  drive  a  nail !  No,  I'm  going 
to  do  it,  now,  just  to  show  you —  (She  pounds  her 
finger  and  drops  the  hammer  with  a  wail  of  pain. ) 
Oh,  Joe! 

[280] 


A    CHRISTMAS    CHIME 

JOE  (running'  to  her). 

What's  the  matter,  dearie  ?  Did  you  hurt  it  much  ? 
Let  me  see.  (After  a  perfunctory  glance  at  the 
injured  finger,  TED  hastens  to  DOLLY.) 

TED   (impulsively). 

Dolly,  do  you  mean  that  I  may  give  Blitzen  to  you  ? 
(DOLLY  turns,  away  from  him,  tremulously  smil 
ing.)  Do  you,  Dolly? 

DOLLY  (faltering). 
Would  you  give  him  to  me,  Ted? 

' 
TED  (very  tenderly). 

You  know  I  would !    Will  you  take  him,  dear? 

DOLLY 

(between  laughter  and  tears). 

Why,  you  dear  old  dunce,  that  was  what  I  wanted 
you  to  do  all  the  time  !  (  TED  seizes  her  hands  and, 
after  one  glance  toward  JOE  and  GLADYS,  kisses 
them  rapturously.  JOE,  looking  up  just  in  time 
to  see  it,  attracts  GLADYS'S  attention,  and  they  stand 
hand  in  hand,  nodding  and  smiling  at  the  younger 
couple. ) 

CURTAIN. 
[281] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON 
MATRIMONY 


THE     COMMITTEE     ON 
MATRIMONY 

A    Comedy  in   One  Act 

CHARACTERS 

Phyllis  Arlington. 
Robert  Chalmers. 


A  richly  furnished,  if  somewhat  conventional, 
drawing-room  serves  as  a  background.  Pictures, 
hangings,  rugs,  bric-a-brac,  books,  all  indicate  that 
taste  and  discretion  have  been  exercised  in  their  se 
lection,  but  it  is  evident,  also,  that  the  family  life  is 
lived  elsewhere,  and  that  this  room,  like  certain  ta 
bles  in  boarding-house  dining-rooms,  is  reserved  for 
transient  guests.  The  chill  impression  given  by  the 
careful  exactness  of  every  detail  is  somewhat  modi- 
fled,  however,  by  the  cheery  crackle  of  a  wood  fire, 
and  by  the  shaded  lights,  whose  rays  soften,  even 
while  they  illumine,  the  mathematical  precision  of 
the  room. 

PHYLLIS  ARLINGTON,  a  slender,  supple  girl,  whose 
dreamy  grey  eyes,  sensitive  nostrils,  and  softly 
moulded  chin  bespeak  an  impressionable  nature — 
an  indication  somewhat  contradicted,  it  is  true,  by 
the  firmness  of  her  lips — sits  near  a  table  on  the  left, 
occasionally  taking  a  few  stitches  in  the  embroidery 
which  lies,  for  the  most  part,  in  her  lap.  The  lamp 
light,  filtering  through  a  daffodil  shade,  falls  upon 
her  white-wool  gown  and  adds  a  glint  to  her  fair 
hair,  which  is  neither  bright  enough  to  be  golden 
nor  dark  enough  to  be  brown. 

To  ROBERT  CHALMERS,  a  vigorous,  resolute, 
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COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

practical  young  fellow  who  lounges  among  the  pil 
lows  of  a  divan  on  the  right,  she  seems  a  delectable 
vision,  and  his  eyes  pay  constant,  eager  homage,  the 
while  his  slower  lips  temporise  to  suit  her  mood. 

PHYLLIS  (continuing  an  argument). 
Well,  Kipling  may  be  all  that  you  say,  but  to  me  he 
seems  deplorably  lacking  in  delicacy  and  idealism. 

ROBERT. 

I  fancy  that  life  in  India  may  not  be  conducive  to 
the  development  of  either  of  those  qualities ;  but 
he's  keen  and  direct,  with  an  apparently  inexhausti 
ble  fund  of  humour  and  a  command  of  the  English 
language  that  is  simply  marvellous !  Moreover,  he 
never  goes  into  mawkish,  morbid  analysis  of  the 
commonplace,  nor  does  he  write  unhealthy  books 
which — to  use  his  own  words — "deal  with  people's 
insides  from  the  point  of  view  of  men  who  have  no 
stomachs." 

PHYLLIS  (laughing). 

Rob  !  You  quote  Kipling  as  other  people  quote  the 
Bible,  and  you  have  an  appropriate  text  for  any 
occasion. 

ROBERT 

(taking  a  book  from  a  small  table  near  him). 
Well,  one  can't  open  one  of  his  books  without  find 
ing  something  worth  reading.     Listen  to  this,  for 
[286] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

instance.  (Reads.)  "How  can  a  man  who  has 
never  married ;  who  cannot  be  trusted  to  pick  up  at 
sight  a  moderately  sound  horse;  whose  head  is  hot 
and  upset  with  visions  of  domestic  felicity,  go  about 
the  choosing  of  a  wife?  He  cannot  see  straight  or 
think  straight  if  he  tries ;  and  the  same  disadvan 
tages  exist  in  the  case  of  a  girl's  fancies.  But  when 
mature,  married,  and  discreet  people  arrange  a 
match  between  a  boy  and  a  girl,  they  do  it  with  a 
view  to  the  future,  and  the  young  couple  live 
happily  ever  afterward.  As  everybody  knows." 
(Laughs.)  What  a  jolly,  sarcastic  beggar  he  is ! 

PHYLLIS. 

Does  that  impress  you  as  being  sarcasm  ? 

ROBERT 

(lowering  the  book  to  stare  at  her). 
Great  Scott!     Does  that  impress  me  as  being  sar 
casm!     What  else  could  it  be? 

PHYLLIS. 

Well,  I  know  one  can't  be  too  certain  of  Kipling's 
opinions,  but  at  any  rate,  he  might  mean  that. 
Many  people  would  agree  with  him. 

ROBERT 

(returning  to  the  perusal  of  his  book). 
Humph ! 

[287] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS. 

Now,  for  instance,  that  has  been  for  a  long  time  a 
favourite  theory  of  mine,  and  if  the  day  ever  comes 
when  I  care  enough  for  a  man  to  want  to  marry  him 
I  shall  refer  the  matter  to  a  committee  of  our  friends 
and  abide  by  their  decision. 

ROBERT 

(hotly,  throwing  the  booh  aside). 
Do  you  mean  to  say  that  if  you  loved  a  man  you 
would  permit  any  one  else  to  decide  for  you  whether 
or  not  you  should  marry  him? 

PHYLLIS  (calmly). 

I  mean  precisely  that.  I  should  deem  myself  prej 
udiced  and  consequently  unfit  to  decide  so  important 
a  question. 

ROBERT 

(leaning  forward  and  speaking  argument atively). 
But,  Phyllis,  can't  you  see  how  absurd  it  is?  The 
idea  of  expecting — or  permitting — any  one  else  to 
decide  for  you  a  question  that  concerns  you  so  vi 
tally — a  matter  so  purely  personal. 

PHYLLIS  (very  earnestly). 

That's  just  the  point!     It  does  concern  me  so  vi 
tally  that  I  can't  be  expected  to  look  at  it  from  a 
[288] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

rational  point  of  view.  I  am  too  near  it ;  I  have  no 
perspective.  And  I'm  surprised  to  hear  you  speak 
of  marriage  as  purely  a  personal  matter,  Rob. 

ROBERT. 

But  no  one  else  can  know  your  heart,  so  how 

PHYLLIS  (quickly). 

For  that  very  reason,  anybody  else's  judgment 
would  be  better  than  mine.  What  right  have  two 
people  to  say :  "Because  we  love  each  other  we  will 
marry,  be  the  consequences  what  they  may"  ?  That 
kind  of  love  has  been  well  defined  as  "an  egotism  of 
two." 

ROBERT  (rising  impatiently). 
And  in  its  place  you  would  establish  an  intellectual 
companionship  which,  after  it  has  been  investi 
gated  and  approved  by  your  cold-blooded  commit 
tee,  you  will  allow  to  expand — perhaps — into  a 
calm  affection.  Cupid  with  a  microscope!  (He 
goes  to  the  fireplace  and  stands  impatiently  rubbing 
his  hands  before  the  blaze.) 

PHYLLIS 

(resignedly  resuming  her  embroidery). 

Indeed,  you  misunderstand  me  !    But  Mrs.  Treavor 

says  that  in  questions  relating  to  marriage,  people 

[  289  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

think  far  too  much  of  their  own  selfish  desires,  and 
far  too  little  of  the  effect  of  their  indulgence  upon 
Humanity. 

ROBERT  (drily). 
Did  Mrs.  Treavor  marry  to  benefit  humanity? 

PHYLLIS   (sadly). 

No;  and  she  has  realised  her  mistake  and  suffered 
bitterly  for  it. 

ROBERT 

(somewhat  quizzically,  turning  toward  her). 
Did  she  tell  you  that,  too? 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh,  no!  How  can  you  be  so  unfair  to  her,  Rob? 
But  one  who  knows  her  well  can  see  how  bravely  she 
struggles  to  make  the  most  of  what  life  has  left 
possible  for  her. 

ROBERT 

(standing  with  his  back  to  the  fireplace,  hands  be 
hind  him). 

Well,  it's  left  a  good  deal.  Joe  Treavor  is  one  of 
the  straightest,  manliest  fellows  I  know. 

PHYLLIS  (impatiently). 
Oh,  yes,  I  dare  say — from  a  man's  point  of  view! 

But  so  lacking  in  perception,  in — in 

[  290  ] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

ROBERT  (bluntly). 

Well,  in  what? 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh,  in  everything  that  a  woman  like  Mrs.  Treavor 
needs ! 

ROBERT. 

Why,  then,  did  she  marry  him  ? 

PHYLLIS  (triumphantly). 

That's  just  it!  She  loved  him — and  idealised  him 
— and  so,  of  course,  she  couldn't  see  that  he  was  of 
too  coarse  a  fibre  to  satisfy  her  soul's  needs. 

ROBERT   (returning  to  the  divan). 
Her  soul  fiddlesticks ! 

PHYLLIS  (indignantly). 

Rob !  If  you  only  knew  Mrs.  Treavor,  you'd  un 
derstand  how  fine  and  strong  and  womanly  she  is, 
and  what  a  perpetual  sacrifice  her  life  has  been. 

ROBERT 

(taking  up  his  book  again). 

Perhaps  I  should;  and  yet — I'm  only  a  man,  you 
know. 

PHYLLIS  (quickly). 

Yes,  but  such  a-: (She  stops,  in  confusion.) 

[291] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ROBERT 

(again  throwing  book  aside  and  going  toward  her 
eagerly). 

Yes?     You  were  about  to  say ? 

PHYLLIS  (shyly). 

You're  so  different  from  other  men !  So  reasonable 
— so  much  more  sympathetic — so — so — oh,  you 
know ! 

ROBERT 

(standing  behind  her  chair). 
Phyllis,  am  I  different  enough  to — to 

PHYLLIS 

(with  an  effort,  faintly). 

To  what,  Rob? 

ROBERT  (bending  over  her). 
To  win  you,  dear  ?  I  love  you,  Phyllis  !  I  know  I'm 
not  a  poet  and  I  don't  understand  lots  of  your  theo 
ries,  but — I  love  you!  (PHYLLIS  hides  her  face 
from  him.  After  a  pause,  he  almost  whispers:) 
Phyllis! 

PHYLLIS. 
Yes? 

ROBERT  (tenderly). 
Are  you  offended  ?    Why  don't  you  Answer  me  ? 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS  (archly). 
Did  you  ask  anything  ? 

ROBERT 

(eagerly  taking  her  hand). 

Don't  trifle,  dear !  I  ask  everything !  Your  love — 
and  you  !  Do  you  love  me,  Phyllis  ?  A  little  ? 

PHYLLIS  (softly). 
Yes— a  little. 

ROBERT. 

Phyllis!  (He  tries  to  put  his  arms  about  her,  but 
she  springs  up  and  eludes  him.)  Really — really, 
you  love  me? 

PHYLLIS 

(keeping  a  chair  between  them). 
Really,  really,  I — love  you !  (He  moves  around  the 
chair  and  she  retreats  behind  the  divan,  saying 
hastily:)  But  you  must  behave  very  well  if  you  ex 
pect  me  to  continue  to  do  so.  For  example  (  he  ad 
vances;  she  backs  away),  you  must  not  be — greedy ! 

ROBERT 

(at  right  of  divan,  protestmgly). 
But,  dearest ! 

[293] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS 

(at  left  of  divan,  teasmgly). 

Well — dearest? 

ROBERT  (pleadingly). 
Phyllis,  dear,  don't  tease — now! 

PHYLLIS. 

Very  well ;  I'll  be  as  serious  as  you  choose,  if  you'll 

promise 

ROBERT. 

Yes? 

PHYLLIS. 

To  treat  me  as  a  prisoner  of  war  and  not  as — a  tar 
get! 

ROBERT  (reproachfully). 

A  prisoner  ? 

PHYLLIS    (very  sweetly). 

Have  I  not  surrendered?     (He  moves  quickly  tow 
ard  her,  but  as  she  withdraws  he  steps  back.) 

ROBERT. 

Very  well ;  I  promise.     Come  out  from  behind  your 
fortifications.     (She  sits  on  the  divan.) 

PHYLLIS 

(pensively,  after  a  pause). 
I  wonder  what  Mrs.  Treavor  will  say? 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 


ROBERT  (ardently). 
What  matter  ?    I'm  content  to  know  what  you  have 
said.      (He  draws  a  chair  very  near  her  and  sits.) 
Phyllis  (persuasively),  when  will  you  marry  me? 

PHYLLIS  (in  alarm). 
Marry  you !     Oh — why — let's  not  talk  about  that ! 

ROBERT. 

Phyllis  !    What  do  you  mean  ? 

PHYLLIS  (breathlessly). 

Why — you  know — there's   something  to — to   con 
sider  first. 

ROBERT  (bewildered). 

Why,  what  ?    What  is  there  ?    Is  anybody's  consent 
required?    We're  orphans,  and  of  age. 

PHYLLIS. 

Yes,  but  I  wonder  if — if  they — will  let  us — marry? 

ROBERT  (still  puzzled). 
They?     Who  in  thunder  are  "they"? 

PHYLLIS. 

Why,  my  friends,  you  know,  to  whom  I  must  sub 
mit  the  matter. 

[295] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
ROBERT  (relieved). 

Oh,  your  people!  Why,  of  course  they  will!  I 
suppose  I  must  ask  your  uncle,  as  a  matter  of  form, 
for  your  hand,  but  that'll  be  all  right !  Both  he  and 
your  aunt  know  that  I  love  you,  and  they've  been 
very  kind  to  me. 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh,  Uncle  Jerry !  Of  course  he  won't  object !  And 
if  he  did,  I  could  coax  him  out  of  it  in  five  minutes. 
Ah!  Ah!  (She  holds  up  a  warning  hand  as  he 
moves  impulsively  toward  her  and  slips  away  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  divan.  He  sits  beside  her. )  And 
Auntie  would  agree  with  Uncle  Jerry.  She  always 
does. 

ROBERT. 

Well,  then,  who  else  is  there  whom  we  must  consult  ? 

PHYLLIS  (faintly). 
The — the  committee. 

ROBERT. 

The  committee !    What  committee  ?    Surely,  Phyllis, 
you  don't  intend — you  can't  intend  to  refer  this 
matter  to — oh,  pshaw !    Of  course  you  don't ! 
[  296  ] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS  (more  firmly). 

But  I  do,  Rob!  I  must!  Don't  you  see?  We're 
in  no  position  to  judge  whether  our  marriage  would 
be  best  for  us — best  for  Humanity. 

ROBERT. 

Why  aren't  we  ? 

PHYLLIS. 

Because  we  love  each  other.  (As  he  tries  to  clasp 
her  in  his  arms,  she  shrinks  from  him.)  No,  no, 
Rob !  You  mustn't !  Indeed,  you  mustn't,  until — 
until  we  are  certain. 

ROBERT  (gravely). 
Aren't  you  certain  now,  Phyllis? 

PHYLLIS. 

That  I  care,  yes — but  not  that  I  dare  marry  you. 
Our  judgment  is  so  warped  now  by  our  love  for 
each  other  that  it's  impossible  for  us  to  be  entirely 
rational.  (She  rises,  speaking  impressively.)  But 
so  much  depends  upon  the  wise  solution  of  this  prob 
lem,  not  only  for  us  but  for  society,  that  we  must  in 
voke  the  aid  of  earnest,  serious  minds,  and  rely  ab 
solutely  upon  their  conclusions. 
[  297  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE. 

ROBERT  (quietly,  rising  also). 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  question  the  wisdom  of  the 
East,  but  it  will  be  some  years,  I  fancy,  before  that 
eminently  Oriental  idea  takes  root  and  flourishes  in 
the  Occidental  mind.  Why,  Phyllis,  that's  the  phi 
losophy  of  India,  where  happy  marriages,  as  we 
understand  them,  are  absolutely  unknown. 

PHYLLIS  (reverently). 

Mrs.  Treavor  says  that  no  one  can  estimate  the 
psychic  influence  of  the  Home.  Its  potentiality  is 
limitless ;  its  consequences  so  far-reaching  as  to  be 
incalculable;  and  if  the  elements  combining  in  its 
atmosphere  are  not  well  balanced,  only  evil  can  re 
sult. 

ROBERT. 
But,  Phyllis,  dear 

PHYLLIS. 

She  says,  too,  that  only  by  awakening  the  cosmic 
consciousness  in  man,  and  a  sense  of  his  personal 
relation  to  all  mental  causation,  can  we  hope  to  es 
tablish  ideal  conditions  and  become  quite  free.  And 
so  we  must  enter  reverently  into  the  realm  of  cause 
and  abide  by  its  laws,  Rob. 

ROBERT  (pacing  to  and  fro). 
How  are  you  going  to  ascertain  all  this,  Phyllis? 
•       [298] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS  (somewhat  reluctantly). 
Well,  I  suppose  one  never  can  be  absolutely  certain, 
but  (resuming  her  seat  on  the  divan)  we  must  do 
all  we  can  to  find  out,  mustn't  we,  Rob  ? 

ROBERT. 

Oh,  I  suppose  we  must !    But 


PHYLLIS. 

Just  a  moment,  please.  We'll  name  a  committee — 
two  of  my  friends  and  two  of  yours — and  they  will 
select  a  fifth  person  (ROBERT  dubiously  shakes  his 
head),  and  then  we  shall  let  them  decide  for  us 
whether  or  not  we  are  really  suited  to  each  other  and 
may  marry  with  reasonable  safety. 

ROBERT 

(sitting  beside  her  and  taking-  her  hand). 
See  here,  Phyllis,  listen  to  me.  You're  talking  non 
sense,  dear.  No  one  could  decide  that  as  well  as  we 
can.  (She  vainly  tries  to  withdraw  her  hand.  He 
continues  earnestly.)  You  know  me  well.  I  have 
loved  you  for  years,  and  I  have  kept  nothing  back 
from  you  that  could  influence  your  love  for  me. 
You  don't  doubt  that  I  love  you,  do  you  ?  Do  you, 
Phyllis? 

PHYLLIS. 
No. 

[299] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ROBERT. 

Nor  my  ability  to  care  for  you  ? 

PHYLLIS. 
Oh,  no! 

ROBERT. 

Then  why  tantalise  me?  Say  that  you'll  marry 
me — soon ! 

PHYLLIS 

(rising,  almost  crying,  and  pulling  her  hand  away). 
I  can't  Rob !  I  can't !  It  wouldn't  be  right ! 

ROBERT  (very  gravely). 

You  insist  upon  appointing  this  absurd  committee? 
Upon  laying  bare  the  sweetest,  most  sacred  feeling 
in  our  lives,  and  inviting  those  people  to  dissect  it, 
examine  it,  and  pronounce  upon  its  quality? 

PHYLLIS  (obstinately). 

I  do! 

ROBERT  (rising). 

Evidently  I  have  laboured  under  a  grave  misappre 
hension.  I  gathered  the  impression,  somehow,  that 
you  cared  for  me — that  you  might  even  love  me. 

PHYLLIS  (piteously). 

Oh,  I  do!    I  do! 

[300] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

ROBERT. 

Then  why  in  the  name  of  all  that's  reasonable 

PHYLLIS. 
Mrs.  Treavor  says 

ROBERT. 
Hang  Mrs.  Treavor ! 

PHYLLIS  (rising). 
Robert! 

ROBERT  (bowing  stiffly). 
I  beg  your  pardon. 

PHYLLIS  (with  dignity). 

Mrs.  Treavor  says  that  our  hearts  are  dangerously 
deceptive,  and  that  it's  only  after  we  have  suffered 
and  suffered  that  we  dare  trust  to  their  impulses. 

ROBERT. 

And  so  you  are  making  me  "suffer  and  suffer"  that 
you  may  be  certain  of  me.  Is  that  it? 

PHYLLIS  (simply). 

No,  dear.    But  I  know  so  little  of  sorrow — my  life 
has  been  so  smooth  and  so  happy — and  we  have  been 
[  301  ]   ' 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

so — so  happy — together — that  I  can't  trust  my 
self.  And  I  must  know  that  I'm  doing  you  no 
wrong  before  I  promise  to  marry  you. 

ROBERT 

(stepping   quickly    to    her   side    and   taking   her 
hands). 

Dear  little  woman,  how  could  you  do  me  a  wrong? 

PHYLLIS  (gently). 

You  don't  seem  to  understand,  Rob,  that  there  are 
very  grave  ethical  responsibilities  to  consider.  And 
then,  we've  said  nothing  yet  of  the  effect  of  the 
subconscious  mind  which,  when  it  is  untrained  as 
(hesitatingly) — as  yours  is,  dear — may  exert  a 
very  baleful  influence.  Some  one  has  said  that  there 
are  a  great  many  very  excellent  people  who  are  not 
at  all  excellent  for  each  other,  and  we  may  be  among 
them. 

ROBERT  (positively). 

Well,  we're  not !  However,  I  suppose  I  must  sub 
mit,  though  I  think  it's  arrant  nonsense — and  worse. 
It's  sacrilegious ! 

PHYLLIS. 

Oh,  Rob! 

[302] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

ROBERT. 

But  we'll  be  even  that,  if  it  pleaseth  my  lady. 
Come,  we'll  sit  here  and  select  our  committee  (she 
permits  herself  to  be  led  to  the  divan,  where  they 
sit)  ;  and — oh,  I  say!  You  must  let  me  keep  pos 
session  of  that  hand,  you  know,  as  a  sort  of — er — 
retaining  fee,  to  quiet  my  scruples  about  this  jury 
business.  So !  Now,  you  begin. 

PHYLLIS. 

I'll  name  one,  and  then  you  name  one. 

ROBERT  (kissing  her  hand). 
All  right.     Fire  away ! 

PHYLLIS. 
Mrs.  Treavor. 

ROBERT  (protesting^). 

Now,  see  here,  Phyllis,  that's  hardly  fair!  Mrs. 
Treavor  belongs  to  the  ultra-anti-masculine  wing 
of  the  woman  movement,  and  opposes  marriage  on 
principle.  She  is,  no  doubt,  an  excellent  woman, 
but 

PHYLLIS  (fervently). 

She's  a  noble  woman,  Rob,  with  such  profound 
soul-depth ! 

[303] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

ROBERT. 

H'm !  Well — I'm  not  so  sure  about  the  soul-depth, 
girlie.  She  doesn't  seem  to  have  soul-depth  enough 
to  appreciate  her  husband,  who  is  one  of  the  finest, 
cleanest,  most  all-round  good  fellows  I've  ever 
known — and  I  know  him  well.  She  doesn't  seem  to 
have  soul-depth  enough  to  realise  that  that  puny, 
spindle-legged  boy  of  hers  needs  more  of  her  atten 
tion  than  her  clubs  and  classes.  She  doesn't  seem  to 
feel  (ROBERT  warms  as  lie  proceeds,  and  PHYLLIS 
withdraws  her  hand)  that  her  husband  and  son  are 
freezing  to  death  in  the  extremely  rarefied  atmos 
phere  of  the  home  that  she  ought  to  make  warm  and 
cheery  and  wholesome,  while  she  floats  about  in  a 
transcendental  haze,  lecturing  to  a  lot  of  senti 
mental  women  (PHYLLIS  indignantly  rises  and 
crosses  to  the  other  side  of  the  room)  about  how  to 
satisfy  the  "soul  hunger"  of  humanity — humanity 
with  a  capital  H ! 

PHYLLIS  (coldly). 

I  knew  that  you  couldn't  be  just  to  Mrs.  Treavor, 
Rob,  but  I  didn't  expect  you  to  be  brutal.  She  is 
my  dearest  friend;  the  woman  upon  whose  judg 
ment  I  most  rely. 

ROBERT 

(springing  up  and  excitedly  pacing  to  and  fro). 

Yes,  and  she's  the  woman  who's  responsible  for  all 

[304] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

this  foolishness  !  She  fancies  herself  misunderstood 
and  unappreciated,  and  prates  about  her  wasted 
life;  she  inveighs  against  men  and  against  mar 
riage,  and  teaches  good,  sweet,  sensible  girls  like 
you  to  believe  that  you  can't  trust  to  the  prompt 
ings  of  your  own  pure  hearts 

PHYLLIS. 

But,  Rob,  list 

ROBERT. 

And  that  there's  something  in  her  hazy,  remote, 
bloodless  philosophy  that  will  atone  to  you  for  the 
sacrifice  of  your  sacred  human  yearning  for  love 
and  all  that  it  brings  to  a  woman!  I  know  her 
kind,  confound  'em,  and  they're  all  dangerous! 

PHYLLIS 

(with  freezing  dignity). 

You  forget  yourself,  Robert !  We  are  not  discuss 
ing  Mrs.  Treavor.  She  is  my  choice  for  one  mem 
ber  of  our  committee.  (She  crosses  the  room  with 
stately  tread.) 

ROBERT 

(pausing  in  his  walk  for  a  moment). 
You  will  not  withdraw  her  name,  Phyllis? 
[305] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

PHYLLIS  (coldly). 

Certainly  not. 

(She  returns  to  the  seat  she  first  occupied,  near  the 
lamp,  and  makes  a  pretence  of  continuing  her 
embroidery,  but  her  glance  furtively  follows 
him.  He  resumes  his  impatient  walk.  Of  a 
sudden  he  pauses  behind  her  chair,  his  eyes 
widen  and  brighten  with  an  illuminating 
thought;  he  puckers  up  his  lips  as  if  to  whistle, 
throws  back  his  head  in  a  silent  laugh,  and 
then,  again  reducing  his  features  to  gravity, 
crosses  slowly  to  the  divan  and  throws  himself 
once  more  among  its  pillows. ) 

ROBERT  (deliberately). 

Very  well,  I  accept  Mrs.  Treavor — though  I  don't 
like  her  (PHYLLIS  prepares  to  be  affable  again), 
and  I'll  name — er — let  me  see — Duncan  Graham! 

PHYLLIS  (in  consternation). 
Rob! 

ROBERT 

(in  a  tone  of  mild  surprise). 
Well? 

PHYLLIS   (indignantly). 
That  crusty  old  bachelor? 

r  ROBERT  (judicially). 

Why  not?     Man  of  excellent  judgment,  Graham. 
Scotch,  you  know.    So  cool  and  hard-headed. 
[  306  ] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS. 

Pig-headed,  you  mean ! 

ROBERT. 

And  eminently  modern,  I  should  say. 

PHYLLIS  (with  heat). 

Yes,  too  modern !  He  seems  to  regard  married  men 
as  victims  of  untoward  circumstance,  and  he  con 
gratulates  engaged  girls!  Horrid  old  thing! 

ROBERT  (with  quiet  dignity). 
Phyllis,  you  are  speaking  of  a  man  for  whom  I 
have  the  greatest  admiration. 

PHYLLIS 

(very  erect,  two  bright  spots  of  colour  burning  in 

her  cheeks). 

I  don't  care !  He  is  horrid !  Why,  Rob,  he'll  make 
no  end  of  a  fuss ! 

ROBERT. 

A  fuss? 

PHYLLIS. 

Yes;  he'll  be  sure  to  raise  a  lot  of  objections.     He 
thought  Will  Forbes  was  so  foolish  to  marry  Mollie 
Turner,  and  she's  such  a  sweet,  dear  girl,  too! 
[307] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
ROBERT  (with  amusement). 

Yes,  I  know.  He  even  tried  to  argue  Forbes  out 
of  the  notion,  and  when  he  failed  he  said  that  the 
worst  of  congenital  idiocy  was  its  hopelessness. 

PHYLLIS  (indignantly). 

I  don't  see  anything  funny  about  that !  I  suppose 
he'll  go  about  saying  that  you're  a  congenital  idiot, 
too!  He  told  me  at  the  Terry's  dinner  the  other 
night  that  he  thought  you  had  a  great  future  be 
fore  you,  if  (with  withering  scorn)  you  didn't 
marry  too  soon.  And  then  he  quoted  that  silly 
old  saw,  "A  young  man  married  is  a  man  that's 
marred."  Spiteful  old  thing! 

ROBERT  (to  himself). 

The  deuce  he  did !  Bull's-eye,  by  Jove.  (To  her, 
carelessly:)  Yes,  I  know  that  to  be  his  opinion. 
That's  the  reason  I  chose  him.  You  know,  Gra 
ham  sees  so  clearly  all  the  obstacles  that  matrimony 
puts  in  a  man's  way — the  added  responsibility 
(counting  them  off  deliberately  on  his  fingers),  the 
loss  of  personal  liberty,  the  petty  social  duties,  the 
possible — er — nagging,  the  narrowed  horizon,  the 
contracted  environment,  the  curtailed  opportuni- 
ties,  tne 

[308] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

PHYLLIS  (hysterically,  rising}. 
You   needn't   go    on,   Mr.   Chalmers!     I've  heard 
quite   enough!      I   wouldn't   for   anything  in  the 
world  entail  such  sacrifice  upon  you! 

ROBERT  (mildly). 
My  dear  little  girl,  how  excitable  you  are ! 

PHYLLIS 

(sits  suddenly,  tapping  on  the  table  with  her  -finger 
tips). 

I  am  not  your  dear  little  girl!     And  I'm  not  in 
the  least  excited! 

ROBERT. 

But,  Phyllis,  be  calm  a  moment  and  listen  to  reason. 

PHYLLIS 

(again  springing  to  her  feet). 
Reason !     Reason* !     That's  like  a  man !     You  all 
care  so  much  more  for  what  you  call  "reason,"  and 
for  practical,   sordid   considerations  than  you  do 
for  our  happiness !     (  Turns  her  back  upon  him. ) 

ROBERT  (suppressing  a  smile). 

But  I  understood  that  this   committee  was  to  be 

formed  for  eminently  practical  purposes,  to  sug- 

[  309  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

gest  and  consider  the  objections  to  our  marriage 
that  we  couldn't  be  expected,  under  the  circum 
stances,  to  discover. 

PHYLLIS  (over  her  shoulder). 
You  seem  to  have  no  difficulty  in  discovering  them ! 

ROBERT. 

But  Graham  could  think  of  so  many  more!  You 
see,  he's  not  hampered  by  his  love  for  you.  (PHYL 
LIS  sniffs  disdainfully.  ROBERT  lazily  leans  back 
among  the  cushions.)  Now,  that's  settled.  Who's 
your  next  candidate? 

PHYLLIS 

(turning  upon  him  suddenly). 

Do  I  understand  that  you  will  not  withdraw  Dun 
can  Graham's  name? 

ROBERT. 

Certainly  I'll  not.    Why  should  I? 

PHYLLIS. 

You    want    that    crabbed,    dyspeptic,    pessimistic, 

stubborn,    detestable    old    Scotchman    making   his 

cynical  comments  on — on  our  love  for  each  other? 

[  310  ] 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 
ROBERT 

(slowly  rising  and  moving  toward  her,  speaking 
solemnly  and  impressively). 

But  you  remember  that  Mrs.  Treavor  says  that 
love  between  a  man  and  a  woman  is,  of  itself,  an 
insurmountable  subjective  obstacle,  evanescent  in 
its  very  nature,  and  paralysing  to  the  conversation 
of  soul  energy  ;  and  that  only  when  these  subjective 
distortions  are  cast  aside,  and  the  higher  poten 
tialities  of  the  spirit  are  educed,  can  the  submerged 
mentality  become  transcendentally  greater  in  sci 
entific  idealism,  and  the  ego,  vibrating  to  a  domi 
nant  note  in  the  thought-atmosphere,  become  a 
finited  spirit,  potentially  whole.  (To  himself,  rue 
fully  : )  I'm  afraid  I  got  that  mixed ! 

PHYLLIS 

(who  has  been  starmg  at  him  m  amazement  and 
consternation,  runs  past  him  and  throws  her 
self,  weeping,  upon  the  divan). 

Oh,  Rob!    Rob!    Rob! 

(Impulsively,  he  starts  to  comfort  her,  but  checks 
himself,  shakes  his  head,  thrusts  his  hands 
resolutely  into  his  trousers9  pockets,  and  stands 
looking  down  at  her. ) 

[311] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
ROBERT  (very  tenderly). 

Phyllis,  shall  we  give  up  this  idea?  Shall  we  put 
our  faith  in  our  love  for  each  other  and — (smiling 
slightly)  chance  it? 

PHYLLIS 

(rising,  wrathful,  tearful,  defiant). 

No !  No !  No !  We  can't  give  it  up !  But  you 
must  withdraw  Duncan  Graham.  I  will  not  have 
him  on  that  committee !  You  understand,  Rob  ? 

ROBERT 

(thoughtfully,  to  himself). 

Now  for  one  big,  brutal  bluff!  (He  turns  toward 
her,  speaking  sternly.)  Phyllis,  listen  to  me.  I 
have  yielded  thus  far  to  your  folly  because  I  hoped 
you'd  see  the  absurdity  of  your  position.  (She 
makes  an  imperious  gesture,  which  he  ignores.) 
Your  conduct  shows  me  that  my  hope  is  vain.  Now 
we'll  decide  this  question  at  once,  if  you  please. 
You  know  that  I  love  you.  You  know  what  my 
circumstances  are,  financially  and  socially,  and  what 
your  position  as  my  wife  would  be.  You  say  that 
you  love  me.  If  you  love  me,  you'll  marry  me. 
(He  takes  out  his  watch.)  I  will  give  you  five  min 
utes  in  which  to  decide  whether  or  not  you'll  marry 


THE    COMMITTEE    ON    MATRIMONY 

me  within  three  months.  If,  at  the  end  of  five 
minutes,  you  have  not  decided,  I  shall  go  away — 
and  I  shall  not  return.  (PHYLLIS  is  defiant.)  .  .  . 
One  minute.  (PHYLLIS  taps  her  foot  and  clasps 
and  unclasps  her  hands.)  .  .  .  Two  minutes. 
(PHYLLIS  fumbles  for  her  handkerchief.)  .  .  . 
Three  minutes.  (PHYLLIS  furtively  wipes  her 
eyes.)  .  .  .  Four  minutes.  (PHYLLIS  drops 
among  the  pillows  and  weeps.)  .  .  .  Five  min 
utes  !  (He  closes  the  watch  with  a  snap  and  returns 
it  to  his  pocket.)  Phyllis  (tenderly),  will  you 
marry  me?  (PHYLLIS  sobs.  After  a  slight  pause, 
ROBERT  walks  rapidly  to  the  door,  where  he  turn$ 
and  looks  back  at  her.)  Phyllis?  .  .  .  Good 
night.  (Exit  ROBERT.) 

(As  soon  as  the  curtain  falls  behind  him,  PHYLLIS 
sits  up,  listens  to  his  departing  steps,  and 
springs  to  her  feet.) 

PHYLLIS  (calling). 

Rob!  Rob!  Oh,  Rob!  (As  he  appears  in  the  door 
way,  she  retreats  a  few  steps.) 

ROBERT  (politely). 

You  called?  (She  nods  and  sobs.)  You  wished  to 
say? 

[  313  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 
PHYLLIS 

(faintly,  struggling  with  her  sobs). 
I'll — I'll  withdraw — Mrs.  Treavor's — name — from 
that — that  committee, — if — if  you'll  withdraw 

ROBERT. 

Well? 

PHYLLIS. 

If  you'll  withdraw — Duncan  Graham's. 

ROBERT  (entering). 

Oh,  well,  that's  fair.  Of  course  I  will.  But,  really, 
(slowly  drawing  nearer  to  her),  I  don't  see  the  need 
of  any  other  committee,  if — if — if  we 

PHYLLIS 

(beaming,  expectant,  joyous). 
Why,  neither  do  I,  you  old  goose! 

(She  stretched  out  her  hands  to   him>  and  as  he 
moves  toward  her  with  extended  arms ) 

QUICK  CURTAIN. 


[314] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 


HER  NEIGHBOUR'S   CREED 
A  Sketch 

"  Nor  knowest  thou  what  argument 

Thy  life  to  thy  neighbour's  creed  hath  lent." 

— EMERSON. 


The  Hunters9  library  is  a  cosy  room,  filled  with 
old  mahogany  and  rare  brasses,  Indian  baskets  and 
Oriental  rugs,  couches,  easy-chairs,  and  many  long, 
low  bookcases.  Most  of  the  room  is  in  shadow,  but 
the  rays  of  the  reading-lamp  fall  upon  MR.  HUN 
TER,  smoking  behind  his  newspaper,  and  less  direct 
ly  upon  MRS.  HUNTER,  who  plays  with  the  Maltese 
kitten  lying  in  her  lap.  The  tone  of  her  soft  grey 
gown  is  warmed  by  the  pink  glow  of  the  lamp,  and 
her  pretty,  fair  hair  seems  surrounded  by  a  rosy 
halo. 

HE  (looking  over  his  newspaper). 
By  the  way,  dearie,  I  met  Torrence  on  the  car  to 
day,  and  they  want  us  to  come  out  there  to  dinner 
to-morrow  night.    He  said  Alice  would  'phone  you 
this  evening. 

SHE  (raising  her  brows). 

To-morrow  night?    Why,  Dick,  to-morrow  will  be 
Good  Friday ! 

HE. 

Oh,  will  it?     Well? 

[  317  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

SHE. 
Well,  of  course,  I  can't  go. 

HE. 

Why  not?    Something  else  on  hand? 

SHE. 

Dick !  As  if  I'd  go  anywhere  except  to  church  on 
Good  Friday ! 

HE  (rather  blankly). 

Oh!  Well,  but  see  here,  Polly,  why  can't  you  go 
to  church  in  the  morning? 

SHE  (primly). 
I  intend  to. 

HE. 

Well,  that  won't  interfere  with  our  going  to  the 
Torrences'  in  the  evening.  You  see,  they've 

planned 

SHE. 

Of  course,  Dick,  we  couldn't  expect  Will  and  Alice 
to  consider  the  day  at  all.  They  were  both  born 
and  reared  Unitarians,  you  know 

HE. 
So  was  I. 

[318] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

SHE  (sighing). 

Yes,  I  know;  so,  naturally,  none  of  you  thought 
about  it's  being  Good  Friday.  But  I  couldn't  think 
of  going  out  to  dine.  Indeed,  I  shouldn't  dream  of 
going  anywhere  except,  as  I  say,  to  church. 

HE 

(disappearing  behind  his  newspaper). 
Oh! 

(A  pause  ensues,  during  which  the  kitten  is  en 
couraged  to  bite  his  own  tail  fiercely.  When 
she  speaks  again,  her  tone  is  so  casual  that 
not  even  a  married  woman  would  suspect  that 
the  excellent  dmner  just  finished,  and  her  un^ 
usually  dainty  toilet,  were  carefully  studied 
preliminaries  to  her  statement.) 

SHE. 

Oh,  Dick !  Invitations  came  to-day  for  the  Patter 
sons'  reception  on  the  29th. 

HE 

(cloudmg  his  newspaper  in  smoke). 
Yes? 

SHE  (definitely). 
And  of  course  we'll  go. 

[319] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

HE  (without  enthusiasm). 
Yes,  I  suppose  so. 

SHE. 

So,  on  my  way  home  from  church  this  morning,  I 
stopped  at  Grover's  and  bought  a  new  gown.  I 
must  have  one,  you  know. 

HE  (absently). 
Yes,  of  course. 

SHE. 

I  met  Charlotte  Houghton  there,  and,  as  usual,  she 
was  gorgeously  dressed.  She  had  on  that  green 
gown  with  gold  trimmings.  Such  bad  taste  for 
Lenten  wear! 

HE  (looking  over  his  paper). 
Charlotte's  pretty.    Probably  sackcloth  doesn't  suit 
her  complexion. 

SHE. 

Oh,  as  to  that — of  course,  one  needn't  be  a  guy! 
But  gold  trimmings!  You  know  (pensively),  I've 
worn  only  greys  and  purples  all  through  Lent. 
There  was  that  lovely  red  cloth  of  mine  lying  there, 
too,  but  I  simply  couldn't  wear  it,  you  know,  in 
Lent! 

HE 

(absorbed  in  the  market  reports). 
No,  I  suppose  not. 

[320] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

SHE  (enthusiastically). 

But  I'm  going  to  have  the  dearest  gown  for  Easter ! 
I'm  going  for  the  last  fitting  to-morrow. 

HE 

(suddenly  peering  over  the  paper  again). 
Eh  ?    I  thought  you  said 

SHE. 

And  the  loveliest  hat!  That  came  home  to-day, 
but  it  wasn't  quite  right,  so  I  sent  it  back,  and  I'll 
slip  in  to  Miss  Benner's  to-morrow  and  show  her 
what  I  want  done  with  it. 

HE  (gravely). 
But,  Polly,  to-morrow  will  be  Good  Friday ! 

SHE. 

Well? 

HE. 

And  you're  going  nowhere  except  to  church,  you 
know. 

SHE. 
Oh,  Dick,  don't  be  stupid ! 

HE. 

But  you  said 

SHE. 
I  said  I  couldn't  go  out  to  dinner.    Of  course  I  did ! 

[321] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

HE  (slowly). 

Oh,  I  see.  You're  garbed  in  sackcloth  and  crowned 
with  ashes,  but  you  can  go  to  the  dressmaker's  and 
the  milliner's  and  gloat  over  the  flesh-pots  in  antici 
pation.  Is  that  it? 

SHE  (protesting^). 

Not  at  all !  I  suppose  you  think  it's  fun  to  have  a 
gown  fitted ! 

HE. 

Oh,  then,  this  is  a  new  form  of  penance?  (He 
smiles  whimsically.)  Expensive  enough  to  be  pop 
ular,  too,  I  should  say.  What  else  are  you  going 
to  do  to-morrow? 

SHE. 

Well,  I  must  go  to  Dixon's  and  get  something  for 
Elsie  Bidwell.  You  know  she  sent  me  a  vinaigrette 
on  Valentine's  Day,  and  I  didn't  send  her  a  thing. 
I  want  to  have  the  mirror  I  got  for  mamma  marked, 
too ;  and  I  haven't  anything  yet  for  Tom  or  Rob. 
It's  so  hard  to  get  things  for  men. 

HE. 

Why  give  them  anything  ? 

SHE. 

Why,  for  Easter !  Dick  Hunter,  I  have  to  explain 
to  you  every  single  year  that  it's  the  custom  to  send 
one's  friends  Easter  greetings ! 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

HE. 

But  since  Easter  commemorates  the  Resurrection,  I 
thought  one  sent  flowers  and  fresh  young  plants 
and — er — you  know ;  that  sort  of  thing. 

SHE 

(with  what,  in  a  less  refined  woman,  would  be  a 
sniff). 

Oh,  of  course,  if  one  wishes  just  barely  to  notice 
people !  But  everybody  in  our  set  sends  silver. 

HE 

(in  a  puzzled  tone,   screening  his  twinkling  eyes 
with  his  hand). 

Oh,  do  they?  Purified  by  fire,  I  suppose,  and  all 
that.  But  I  don't  quite  see  the  connection. 

SHE  (vaguely). 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know. 

HE. 

I  suppose  there  must  be  some  remote  and  forgotten 
symbolism 

SHE   (hastily). 

Oh,  well,  never  mind!  You're  always  hunting  for 
impossible  things !  Dick,  I  asked  the  Caruthers  to 
dine  here  Sunday. 

[  323  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

HE  (turning  to  the  editorial  page). 
Caruthers?     That's  good !     They're  going  to  be  at 
Torrence's  to-morrow  night. 

SHE. 

Oh,  are  they  ?    They're  Unitarians,  too,  aren't  they  ? 

HE. 

I  don't  know.     Guess  not.     Then  they're  all  going 
to  hear  Treboni. 

SHE 

(in  a  tone  eloquent  of  surprise). 
Treboni ! 

HE. 

Yes;  she  gives  one  concert,  you  know,  on  her  way 
back  from  the  Pacific  Coast. 

SHE  (wistfully). 
Only  one? 

HE  (cheerfully). 
That's  all. 

SHE. 

Oh,  dear!     .     .     .     Did  they  want  us  to  go,  Dick? 
[324] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

HE. 

Yes ;  Torrence  has  a  loge. 


SHE. 

Well,  why  didn't  you  tell  me? 

HE. 

You  said  you  couldn't  go. 

SHE. 

I  know ;  but  you  might,  at  least,  have  told  me  what 
I  was  refusing !  How  stupid  of  her  to  be  here  on 
Good  Friday!  (Another  pause,  during  which  the 
kitten  plaintively  mews,  as  is  the  manner  of  kittens 
when  their  ears  are  tweaked.)  Oh — er — Dick? 

HE 

(deeply  interested  in  the  editorial). 
H'm? 

SHE. 
That  isn't  going  to  be  a  sacred  concert,  I  suppose  ? 

HE. 

Guess  not.    Haven't  heard  anything  about  it. 

SHE  (tentatively). 
Of  course,  nobody  will  go. 

[325  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

HE. 

Oh,  I  don't  know.  Torrence  said  the  seats  were 
selling  well. 

SHE  (impatiently). 

Oh,  yes,  of  course!  But  I  mean — nobody  in  our 
set. 

HE. 

There  are  the  Torrences  and  the  Caruthers ! 

SHE. 

Yes,  but — they  aren't  really  in  the  set,  you  know. 
Of  course,  we  know  them,  and  the  men  are  your 
friends,  but — Alice  and  Rose  don't — don't 

HE 

(a  hint  of  sarcasm  in  his  tone). 
Don't  attend  the  Church  of  St.  Simeon  Stylites? 

SHE 

(with  spirit,  pushing  the  kitten  from  her  lap  as 
she  rises). 

Well,  you  know  perfectly  well  that  all  the  nicest 
people  go  there !  The  people  one  must  know ;  that 
is,  if — if  one's  going  to  be  anybody !  And  one  must 
consider  one's  children ! 

[326] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

HE 

(as  one  who  has  unexpectedly  solved  an  abstruse 
problem  ) . 

O-oh!  All  this  is  really  a  new  form  of  maternal 
solicitude,  is  it? 

SHE. 

Well,  of  course,  I  want  him  to  grow  up  knowing  the 
right  people. 

HE  (drily). 

H'm !  Yes,  I  see.  But  judging  from  the  young 
man's  definite  and  original  ideas  as  to  the  "time  to 
keep  silence  and  the  time  to  speak" — he  lifted  his 
voice  at  five  o'clock  this  morning,  to  my  personal 
knowledge! — and — well,  the  proprieties  governing 
his  conduct  generally,  I  fancy  he'll  choose  his  own 
friends  when  the  time  comes ! 

SHE. 

All  the  more  reason  that  he  should  be  properly 
started!  One  never  entirely  shakes  off  the  influ 
ences  of  one's  childhood,  you  know. 

HE. 

Which,  since  your  people  were  Quakers,  accounts 
for  your  devotion  to  St.  Simeon  Stylites,  I  sup 
pose  ? 

[327] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

(This,  being  manifestly  irrelevant,  is  very  prop 
erly  ignored,  and  lie  resumes  his  interrupted 
reading,  while  she  restlessly  wanders  about 
the  room.) 

SHE  (suddenly). 
Oh,  Dick,  I  wished  we  lived  in  England ! 

HE. 

Do  you  ? 

SHE. 

Yes;  because  there  they  close  all  the  theatres  and 
things  on  Good  Friday.     .    .    .    Dick? 

HE. 

Yes? 

SHE. 

Do  you  know  what  Treboni  is  going  to  sing? 

HE. 

No ;  Torrence  didn't  say.    The  usual  thing,  I  sup 
pose. 

SHE  (disconsolately). 

I  don't  see  why  she  didn't  call  it  a  sacred  concert. 
It  would  have  made  it  so  easy !     That  would  have 
been  fine,  wouldn't  it,  Dick  ? 
[328] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

HE. 

Very. 

SHE 

(returning  to  her  hassock  near  the  fireplace). 
I  wonder  if  people  will  dress  much  ? 

HE. 

Well,  I  hope  they'll  dress  more  than  they  did  the 
last  time  she  was  here !  Old  Mrs.  Loomis's  lack  of 
apparel  was  scandalous ! 

SHE  (picking  up  the  kitten  again). 
Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean!     Don't  you  suppose 
they'll  wear  very  quiet,  dark  things  ? 

HE. 

Don't  know,  I'm  sure. 

SHE  (poking  the  fire). 

Oh,  dear !  I  would  so  love  to  go — if  it  weren't  Good 
Friday,  of  course  !  .  .  .  You  said  Alice  intended 
to  'phone  me  to-night  ? 

HE. 

That's  what  Torrence  said. 

SHE. 

What  did  you  tell  him? 

[329] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

HE. 

Told  him  I  thought  we'd  go. 

SHE  (reproachfully). 
Oh,  Dick! 

HE   (contritely). 

I'm  sorry,  dear ;  but  I  forgot  all  about  Good  Friday. 
You  can  tell  her  about  it. 

SHE. 

Yes,  but — oh,  I  suppose  I  must!  (She  thrusts  the 
poker  back  into  the  rack  with  a  clatter  that  sends 
the  kitten  leaping  away.)  You  think  I  ought  to, 
don't  you,  Dick? 

HE. 

Ought  to  what? 

SHE. 

Tell  her  we  can't  go. 

HE  (gravely). 

You  must  do  as  you  think  best  about  that,  Polly.  I 
don't  want  you  to  do  anything  that  you  think  is 
wTrorig. 

SHE   (persistently). 
But  you  do  want  to  go,  don't  you  ? 
[330] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

HE  (smiling  at  her). 

Oh,  it  would  be  very  jolly,  of  course.  Torrence  and 
Caruthers  and  the  girls  are  all  pleasant,  and  they'll 
have  a  jolly  time;  but  I  shouldn't  enjoy  it  if  I 
knew  you  were  being  scourged  by  your  conscience. 

SHE  (sighing). 

No,  of  course  not.  (She  takes  up  a  newspaper,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  is  still.)  Oh,  here's  the  pro 
gramme  !  Dick,  she's  going  to  sing  the 
Bach-Gounod  "Ave  Maria."  That's  sacred.  And 
Elizabeth's  Prayer  from  "Tannhauser."  Why,  it's 
going  to  be  a  sacred  concert,  after  all ! 

HE. 

What  else  will  she  sing  ? 

SHE  (carelessly). 
Oh,  some  French  songs  and — other  things. 

HE. 

Call  those  sacred? 

SHE. 

Oh,  well,  one  needn't  listen  to  the  words,  you 
know.  Probably  no  one  will  understand  them,  any 
way — and  the  music's  good.  Fine  music's  always 
sacred,  isn't  it  ?  You  know  ever  so  many  arias  from 
the  operas  are  sung  in  church,  with  sacred  words. 
And  if  one  didn't  listen  to  the  French — or  just 

[331] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

thought  sacred  words  to  one's  self — I  don't  see  why 
one  mightn't  go. 

(There  is  another  long  pause,  during  which  she 
studies  the  fire,  and  he,  smiling  behind  the 
screen  of  his  newspaper,  watches  her.) 

SHE  (thoughtfully). 

And  one  might  wear  black,  you  know — my  jetted 
net  would  do — and  no  jewels.  What  do  you  think, 
Dick? 

HE 

(after  feigning  a  yawn  to  conceal  the  smile  that 
threatened  to  betray  him). 

You  must  do  as  you  think  best,  dear. 

SHE. 

I  suppose,  if  I  asked  them,  the  girls  would  wear 
dark  gowns.  And  you'd  be  so  disappointed  to  miss 
it,  wouldn't  you,  dear? 

HE  (obtusely). 

Don't  consider  me  at  all,  Polly.  I've  heard  Treboni 
several  times,  you  know 

SHE. 

Well,  but  I  haven't !  That  is  (hurriedly),  I  haven't 
any  right  to  be  selfish  about  it.  One  must  sacri 
fice  even  one's  scruples  at  times,  I  suppose.  And 

[332] 


HER    NEIGHBOUR'S    CREED 

I'll  send  some  lilies —  How  much  are  lilies  now, 
Dick? 

HE  (  biting  his  lip  ) . 

I  haven't  priced  them,  but  somebody  said  they  were 
very  expensive  this  year. 

SHE  (with  enthusiasm) . 

Then  I'll  send  a  lot  of  lilies  to  St.  Simeon's— 
enough  to  go  all  the  way  around  the  chancel !  And 
— I  needn't  eat  very  much  dinner. 

HE. 

Then  you're  going? 

SHE. 

Well — it's  almost  a  sacred  concert,  you  know.  Be 
sides,  nobody  whom  we  know  will  see  us,  anyway, 
except  the  Caruthers  and  the  Torrences,  and  they 
don't  care. 

HE. 

The  Sewells  are  going. 

SHE. 

The  Sewells!     The  Ellery   Sewells?     Why,  Dick 
Hunter !    Why  didn't  you  say  so  in  the  first  place ! 
If  the  Sewells  are  there,  nobody  will  say  a  word. 
[333] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

HE. 

There's  the  telephone  bell.    What  are  you  going  to 
tell  Alice? 

SHE. 

Tell  her?     Why,  we'll  go,  of  course!     I  wouldn't 
miss  it  for  anything! 


CURTAIN. 


[334] 


UNEXPECTED    GUESTS 


UNEXPECTED   GUESTS 

Now,  Eleanore,  if  you  can't  keep  out  of  the  way, 
you  run  right  upstairs  and  play.  I  can't  have  you 
hanging  to  my  skirts  while  I'm  getting  luncheon. 
Well,  Katie's  washing,  you  know.  No,  of  course 
you  can't  go  where  Katie  is.  She's  cross  enough 
now,  goodness  knows !  Here  she  comes !  Now,  you 
run  right  out  of  the  kitchen. 

I've  just  come  out  (apologetically)  to  make  a 
cup  of  tea,  Katie.  I'll  have  some  bread  and  butter 
and  tea  for  luncheon,  and  Eleanore  can  have  bread 
and  milk.  No  bread !  Why,  Katie !  Oh,  yes,  of 
course !  I  forgot  that  we  had  a  chafing-dish  sup 
per  last  night.  Yes,  you're  quite  right ;  it  takes  a 
great  deal  of  bread  to  make  toast.  Of  course  you 
couldn't  be  expected  to  foresee  emergencies  like 
that.  Oh,  well,  we'll  eat  crackers.  And  I'll  get 
some  jam. 

Eleanore,  what  are  you  doing?     Come  right  out 

of  the  pantry.      Why,   Eleanore   Pelham!     Look 

what  you've  done  !    What  is  that  ?    Molasses  ?    All 

over   Katie's   clean   shelves!      You   naughty   girl! 

[337] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Never  mind,  Katie,  I'll  clean  it  up.  Yes,  I  know ; 
you're  busy  with  the  washing.  Mercy!  There's 
the  door-bell !  Just  twelve  o'clock.  Must  be  a  ped 
lar.  I  can't  go,  and  you — oh,  no,  of  course  I  never 
expect  you  to  answer  the  bell  on  wash-day,  Katie. 
Eleanore,  you  go  to  the  door,  and  say  that  I'm  busy 
and  that  I  don't  want  anything.  And  don't  stand 
talking  to  the  man,  but  shut  the  door  at  once.  Then 
go  upstairs  and  wait  until  I  come.  Do  you  under 
stand  ? 

I'm  very  sorry  about  the  molasses,  Katie,  but  I'll 
clean  it  all  up.  Oh,  well,  little  people  don't  always 
realise  what  trouble  they  are  making,  you  know. 
Oh,  yes,  I  shall  punish  her,  certainly.  You  may  go 
back  to  the  laundry.  I'll  attend  to  this  and  get 
luncheon.  Ugh !  Of  all  the  sticky  messes ! 

What?  Ladies!  At  this  hour?  Let  me  see, 
Eleanore.  Mrs.  James  Norton  Enderby !  My 
land !  I  asked  her  to  come  to  luncheon  any  day 
that  she  happened  to  be  in  town — and  she's  come! 
What?  You  told  her — Eleanore  Gladys  Pelham! 
Did  you  tell  that  lady  that  I  was  busy  and  didn't 
want  anything?  Well,  you'll  go  straight  to  bed! 
Now  stop  your  whimpering  this  instant!  I've  no 
time  for  any  nonsense  of  that  sort !  And  it's  wash 
day!  And  Katie's  perfectly  savage!  And  there's 
not  a  slice  of  bread  in  the  house!  And  all  this 
horrid  mess  in  the  pantry!  Two  ladies,  did  you 
[338] 


UNEXPECTED    GUESTS 

say?  Oh,  well,  she  can't  intend  to  stay,  then.  I'll 
just  leave  this  until  she's  gone. 

Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Enderby?  So  delighted 
to  see  you !  Your  sister  ?  Not  your  sister  Florence, 
whom  you  have  told  me  so  much  about?  Oh,  so 
charmed  to  meet  you,  Miss  Johnson!  Why,  cer 
tainly,  Mrs.  Enderby !  So  nice  of  you  to  under 
stand  that  I  should  want  to  meet  her  at  once !  No, 
I  won't  make  a  bit  of  fuss.  Just  what  we  should 
have  ourselves,  you  know.  Let  me  take  your  wraps. 
It's  so  delightful  to  have  you  drop  in  in  this  infor 
mal  way!  Eleanore  and  I  are  often  quite  lonely. 
Yes,  my  little  girl.  Oh,  did  she?  How  dreadful  of 
her !  I  told  her  once  to  say  something  like  that  to  a 
miserable  book-agent  whom  I  saw  coming,  and  she's 
never  forgotten  it.  Children  have  such  unfathom 
able  memories !  Now,  will  you  amuse  yourselves  for 
a  moment,  while  I  put  away  your  wraps  and  tell  my 
maid  to  lay  some  extra  plates  ?  Oh,  no,  not  the  least 
in  the  world !  That's  one  thing  that  my  maids  al 
ways  understand  from  the  first — that  there  shall  be 
no  complaints  about  unexpected  guests.  Oh,  yes, 
it  requires  a  little  firmness  and  tact  in  the  beginning, 
but  they  can  always  be  trained,  and  I  simply  will 
not  be  a  slave  to  my  cook  ! 

Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I've  got  to  tell  Katie ! 
If—  Well,  there's  no  help  for  it!  Katie!  Oh, 
Katie  I  Come  here  a  moment,  please.  Some  ladies 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

have  just  come  and —  Oh,  I'm  very  sorry,  Katie, 
but  really,  I  can't  help  it ! — and  we've  got  to  give 
them  something  to  eat.  Well,  you  see,  it's  very  im 
portant  because — oh,  well,  I  haven't  time  to  explain 
now,  but  there  are  reasons  why  I  must  be  nice  to 
Mrs.  Enderby.  Now  what  can  you  give  us  for 
luncheon?  But,  Katie,  I  can't  get  it  now!  You 
may  leave  the  rest  of  the  washing.  Well,  then,  I'll 
send  it  out.  Katie  (firmly),  you  must  get  us  some 
lunch !  I  don't  know  what,  but  I've  got  to  go  back 
in  the  other  room,  and  you  are  to  get  luncheon. 
You  understand,  Katie !  Why,  give  us  the  cold 
chicken  that  was  left  from  yesterday's  dinner. 
Gone!  Impossible !  There  was  almost  a  whole  one 
left  when  it  came  off  the  table.  I  noticed  it  particu 
larly,  and  thought  it  would  do  for  dinner  to-night, 
with  a  little  stretching.  Oh,  certainly,  Katie,  I 
haven't  the  least  objection  to  your  having  every 
thing  that  you  need  to  eat,  but  a  whole  chick — 
Oh,  well,  never  mind!  But  get  us  something!  I 
know  there's  no  bread,  but  isn't  it  almost  time  for 
the  baker?  Oh,  well,  we  can't  wait  until  half-past 
two,  you  know.  That  is  nonsense.  You  must  make 
some  hot  biscuits,  only  be  quick ! 

Why,  Eleanore,  are  you  here  entertaining  the  la 
dies?     I'm  afraid  you  are  bothering  Miss  Johnson. 
Not  everybody  likes  to  have  little  girls  leaning  on 
them.    Oh,  she's  been  showing  you  her  kindergarten 
[  340  ] 


UNEXPECTED    GUESTS 

things,  has  she?  Yes,  we  think  she  has  rather  an 
unusual  adaptability  for  that  sort  of  thing.  We 
hope  she's  going  to  be  an  artist.  Her  teacher 
thinks  she  shows  great  talent.  Eleanore,  can  you 
tell  Miss  Johnson  about  Mrs.  Pussy?  Oh,  I  think 
you  can !  Come,  come,  now,  don't  be  naughty ! 
Tell  Miss  Johnson  about  Mrs.  Pussy,  and  then 
mamma'll  give  you  some  candy.  Stand  right  here 
by  mamma.  Take  your  finger  out  of  your 
mouth! — so.  Now  begin.  "Mrs.  Pussy,  sleek 
and  fat—"  "—kittens  four."  That's  right! 
"Went  to  sleep — "  Go  on,  dear.  "By  the  kitchen 
— door."  That's  right!  Yes,  she's  only  five,  you 
know !  Now  the  next  verse,  dearie.  Oh,  yes ! 
Come,  now,  go  right  on!  "Mrs.  Pussy  heard — " 
" — in  glee."  Yes;  go  on.  "Kittens,  maybe — " 
" — go  and  see."  Yes,  we  think  she  has  a  very  re 
markable  memory.  Her  teacher  says  she  remem 
bers  these  things  better  than  any  other  child  in 
the  class.  Now,  Eleanore!  "Creeping,  creep 
ing — "  Oh,  have  you  forgotten  it?  You  knew 
it  so  well  yesterday !  "But  the  little  mouse 
had  gone — "  Why,  Eleanore  Pelham!  What's 
this  on  your  dress?  Molasses!  Oh — er — yes, 
I  forgot !  Will  you  excuse  me  a  moment  while 
I  go  and — er — scrub  this  small  girl?  Come, 
Eleanore. 

Now  you  go  straight  up  the  back  stairs  to  your 
[341] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

play-room,  and  stay  there  until  I  come.  Don't 
come  down  again,  Eleanore.  Do  you  understand? 
I'll  come  when  I  have  cleaned  up  the  molasses  you 
spilled  all  over  the  pantry  ! 

Why,  Katie!  Why  aren't  you  getting 
luncheon?  Well,  I  told  you  to  make  biscuits. 
Yes,  I  know  there's  molasses  all  over  the  pantry 

I'm  very   sorry    about  that,   Katie! — but  can't 

you  make  biscuits  on  the  kitchen-table  this  once? 
Well,  but  we  must  have  something  to  eat!  It's 
one  o'clock  now!  Katie!  Leave  me — now?  Oh, 
you  can't !  You — you  mustn't!  I  know !  It  was 
very  thoughtless  of  Mrs.  Enderby  to  come  on  Mon 
day — stupid  thing  she  is,  anyway! — and  I  ought 
not  to  have  given  her  that  sort  of  an  invitation! 
But  if  you'll  stay  and  serve  luncheon,  I'll — I'll  give 
you  that  new  silk  petticoat  of  mine !  It's  just  about 
long  enough  for  you.  No,  you  needn't  cook  any 
thing!  We'll  have — let  me  see! — is  there  any 
boned  chicken  in  the  house?  I  mean  canned  chicken, 
you  know !  Well,  if  you'll  open  a  can  of  that, 
I'll  cream  it  in  the  chafing-dish,  and —  No,  you 
needn't  make  biscuits !  I'll  serve  it  on  toasted 
crackers.  If  you'll  set  the  table,  Katie,  and  toast 
the  crackers,  and  open  the  chicken,  and  serve  the 
luncheon,  I'll  wash  the  dishes — and  give  you  that 
silk  petticoat — and — yes,  and  a  whole  day  off! 
To-morrow?  Yes,  the  ironing  can  wait.  Well, 


UNEXPECTED    GUESTS 

then,  I'll  have  some  one  come  in  and  do  it.  Now, 
that's  a  good  girl,  Katie!  A-a-ah! 

Yes,  we  went  to  hear  her  last  night.  Do  you 
think  she's  as  attractive  in  this  role  as  she  was  in 
"The  Prisoner  of  Zenda"?  Oh,  well,  perhaps  I 
wasn't  in  a  very  responsive  mood.  Oh,  no,  not  in 
the  least,  Mrs.  Enderby!  Indeed,  I'm  going  to 
take  you  at  your  word,  and  give  you  a  picked-up 
luncheon — just  what  we  should  have  had  ourselves, 
you  know.  But  on  Mondays  we  always  have  lunch 
eon  rather  late — in  fact,  we  have  it  quite  late.  I 
hope  you  don't  mind?  Yes,  I  have  a  very  satisfac 
tory  maid — as  maids  go.  Of  course,  she  needs  a 
little  managing,  but  I  really  think  I  have  a  way 
with  servants.  I  really  have.  I  seldom  have  much 
trouble  with  them,  until  they  get  perfectly  unen 
durable,  and  then — I  simply  dismiss  them,  you 
know.  Have  you  heard  about  poor  Mrs.  Drayton? 
She  tried  to  dismiss  her  cook  last  week,  and  the 
woman  drove  her  out  of  the  kitchen  by  throwing 
things  at  her — anything  within  her  reach,  you 
know!  Poor  Mrs.  Drayton  was  so  upset,  she  had 
to  send  for  the  doctor  and  a  policeman.  Now,  if  I 
had  a  maid  who  was  given  to  throwing  things  about, 
I  should —  Good  gracious!  what's  that?  Excuse 
me  a  moment ! 

Oh,  you  dropped  the  chafing-dish,  Katie?  They 
are  slippery  things.  I  dropped  one  once  myself. 
[343] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Anything  broken?  No,  I  think  it's  all  right.  Have 
you  the  crackers  ready  to  toast  ?  Here's  the  chick 
en — butter — cream — flour — olives — yes,  I  think 
that's  all.  Oh,  did  you  fill  the  lamp — the  alcohol- 
lamp  under  the  chafing-dish?  Never  mind;  I'll  do 
it.  And  tea,  jam,  and  little  cakes  for  dessert.  All 
ready,  Katie  ?  Yes,  you  shall  have  the  petticoat  this 
afternoon,  just  as  I  promised  you. 

Won't  you  come  out  to  luncheon,  ladies  ? 


THE    P.  A.  I.  L.  W.  R. 


THE   P.   A.   I.   L.    W.   R. 

Is  this  Mrs.  Brastow?  Yes,  good  morning,  Mrs. 
Brastow.  I  thought  I  couldn't  be  mistaken.  What 
a  charming  location  you  have  here !  I  was  in  this 
city  when  Mr.  Brastow  bought  this  lot.  I  said  then 
that  it  was  an  ideal  site  for  a  home,  and  I  see  it  is. 
And  an  ideal  home  on  the  site.  No,  I've  never  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  before,  but  I've  had 
many  a  long  talk  with  your  husband  during  the 
past  fifteen  years.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  Mr.  Brastow 
well.  You  may  have  heard  him  speak  of  me.  Jones 
is  my  name.  Charlie  Jones.  Yes,  I  know  him  well. 
Thank  you,  I  will  come  in  for  a  moment. 

What  a  lovely  room,  to  be  sure !  Such  a  sense  of 
restf ulness  pervades  it !  How  one  does  feel  the  in 
dividuality  of  a  room,  Mrs.  Brastow!  And  I  sup 
pose  everything  in  your  house  is  as  perfect,  in  its 
way,  as  this  room  is. 

There  can  be  only  one  thing  necessary  to  complete 
it,  and  that  one  thing  I  shall  now  have  the  pleasure 
of  introducing  to  you.  It  is  the  Patent  Adjustable 
Indestructible  Loop  Wire  Receptacle — sometimes 
called  the  P.  A.  I.  L.  W.  R.,  for  short — capable  of 
being  transformed,  at  a  moment's  notice,  and  with- 
[347] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

out  the  aid  of  any  other  tool  or  instrument  except 
the  human  hand,  into  any  one  of  twenty-three 
separate  and  distinct  household  articles,  each  one 
absolutely  indispensable  to  the  well-regulated  and 
adequately  equipped  home.  For  example,  as  you 
see  it  now,  it  is  a  fruit-dish.  Piled  high  with 
oranges  and  bananas,  it  is  a  most  artistic  and  beau 
tiful  centrepiece  for  any  table.  You  will  notice 
that  the  wires  are  all  plated  with  a  patented  com 
position,  invented  especially  for  this  article,  which 
makes  them  look  like  the  finest  spun  silver.  This 
plate  is  permanent  and  will  never  wear  off.  Like 
everything  else  used  in  the  composition  of  the 
Patent  Adjustable  Indestructible  Loop  Wire  Re 
ceptacle,  it  is  absolutely  indestructible.  Just  pic 
ture  to  yourself  a  dining-table  with  this  magnifi 
cent  article  as  a  centrepiece. 

You  never  eat  fruit?  Is  it  possible!  I  had  a 
brother  who  had  a  similar  taste.  IVe  known  him 
to  leave  the  table  because  he  was  unable  to  bear  the 
sight  of  a  plate  of  ripe  fruit.  On  one  occasion  he 
broke  up  a  dinner-party  by  so  doing,  because  he 
was  the  fourteenth  guest,  and,  of  course,  when  he 
left — well,  you've  heard  of  that  little  superstition 
of  thirteen  at  table.  Ah?  Well,  neither  am  I.  I 
believe  I  have  no  superstitions — unless,  indeed,  it's 
the  one  about  pins.  "See  a  pin  and  pick  it  up," 
you  know.  I  never  fail  to  pick  up  a  pin,  and  it  al- 
[348] 


THE   P.  A.   I.  L.  W.  R. 

ways  brings  me  good  luck.  I  picked  up  one  on 
your  step,  while  I  was  waiting  for  the  door  to  be 
opened. 

By  the  way,  talking  about  pins,  by  compress 
ing  this  wonderful  article,  thus,  it  becomes  a  pin- 
tray,  an  article  indispensable  to  every  well-appoint 
ed  dressing-table.  Ah?  You  use  silver  pin-trays. 
Well,  of  course,  many  ladies  are  fortunate  enough 
to  be  supplied  with  them  now,  but  one  never  knows 
when  thieves  may  break  in  and  steal,  you  know. 
And  then,  one  is  liable  to  run  up  against  an  emer 
gency,  such  as  unexpected  guests  from  the  coun 
try,  who  have  to  be  accommodated  in  improvised 
bed-rooms — bed-lounges,  and  that  sort  of  thing — 
and,  of  course,  a  conscientious  hostess  always  likes 
to  be  equal  to  the  occasion.  Now,  with  a  number  of 
these  marvellous  articles  in  the  house,  a  complete 
toilet-set,  lacking  only  the  brush  and  mirror,  may 
be  had  at  a  moment's  notice.  This,  as  I  have  said, 
is  the  pin-tray.  Now,  you  slip  this  loop,  turn  it 
thus,  pull  it  out,  and,  presto !  you  have  a  beautiful 
silver  comb !  By  snapping  these  loops  down,  thus, 
a  handle  is  formed,  and  the  loop  at  the  opposite  end 
may  be  used  as  a  button-hook. 

Ah,  yes,  many  ladies  wear  laced  boots  now,  but  I 

am  confidentially  informed  that  buttons  are  coming 

in,  and  in  a  year  all  women's  shoes  will  be  buttoned. 

"A  stitch  in  time,"  you  know.     One  should  always 

[  349  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

be  prepared.  That's  the  secret  of  success.  Always 
be  prepared.  Now,  by  slipping  this  spring,  the 
whole  string  of  loops  becomes  a  chain,  useful  in  a 
variety  of  ways.  It's  often  found  valuable  as  a 
supporter  for  pillow-shams ;  or,  united  at  the  ends, 
thus,  it  is  worn  about  a  lady's  neck  as  a  watch-chain 
— or  a  lorgnette  may  be  attached  to  the  end. 
You've  noticed  how  very  fashionable  these  long 
chains  have  become  since  the  introduction  of  the 
Patent  Adjustable  Indestructible  Loop  Wire  Re 
ceptacle.  Or,  by  again  forming  the  basket  founda 
tion,  thus,  and  attaching  the  braces,  so,  one  has  an 
egg-basket,  always  a  necessary  article  in  every 
house. 

Never  eat  eggs?  Indeed!  Now,  that's  very  in 
teresting  !  You  know,  I'm  making  up  a  set  of  sta 
tistics  about  the  people  who  don't  eat  things,  and 
the  things  people  don't  eat.  Take  your  own  case, 
for  example.  I've  discovered  in  this  short  time  that 
you  eat  neither  fruit  nor  eggs.  One  season  I  so 
licited  orders  for  a  set  of  patent  cake-tins,  and  you'd 
be  surprised  at  the  number  of  ladies  who  assured 
me  that  they  never  ate  cake.  It's  most  interesting. 

Yes,  to  be  sure;  I  know  it's  Saturday  morning, 
and  that's  always  a  busy  morning  for  a  housekeep 
er.  I'll  not  detain  you  a  moment.  As  I  was  about 
to  say,  by  compressing  this  part  and  sliding  the 
handle  down,  you  have  a  most  complete  and  artistic 
[  350  ] 


THE   P.  A.   I.  L.  W.  R. 

pudding-dish,  of  unique  and  pleasing  shape.  Oh, 
pardon  me,  perhaps  you  never  eat  puddings,  either? 
Ah,  most  interesting !  Or,  by  flattening  it,  thus, 
and  pulling  this  end  out,  you  have  a  complete  toast 
er  and  broiler,  suitable  for  use  with  any  kind  of 
heat,  coal,  gas,  oil,  or  electricity.  Again,  by  scoop 
ing  out  the  bottom,  thus,  pushing  these  wires  back, 
and  shaping  it  a  little  with  the  fingers,  you  have  a 
handsome  picture-frame,  of  the  shape  known  as  the 
shadow-box,  without  the  heavy,  sombre  appear 
ance  of  the  usual  shadow-boxes  made  in  black. 

Now,  I  see  by  the  toys  on  the  front  stoop  that 
you  have  little  ones — ah,  yes,  what  is  home  without 
the  little  darlings ! — and  what  could  be  a  more  suit 
able  frame  for  the  baby's  picture  than  that  ?  Just 
fancy  the  little  dear — his  father's  j  oy — a  little  girl  ? 
Indeed  !  I  might  have  known  it !  I  think  I  saw  her 
outside.  She  has  her  mother's  smile.  As  I  was 
about  to  say,  just  picture  the  little  dear,  his  fa — oh, 
to  be  sure! — her  father's  joy,  looking  out  of  that 
shining  frame !  Have  you  the  baby's  picture  at 
hand,  Mrs.  Brastow  ?  Ah,  I'm  sorry.  I  should  have 
liked  to  see  it  in  this  frame.  It  would  have  been  a 
pleasant  memory  to  carry  away  with  me. 

Yes;  just  a  moment,  please.  Then,  by  complet 
ing  the  basket  form  again,  and  by  stretching  these 
loops  to  the  uttermost,  you  have  a  waste-basket, 
light,  durable,  clean,  and  exceedingly  handsome. 
[351] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Or  by  slightly  pressing  it  together  and  decreasing 
its  size,  one  has  a  jardiniere,  suitable  for — just  a 
moment,  please — a  jardiniere,  suitable  for  potted 
plants. 

By  studying  the  various  combinations  possible 
to  the  Patent  Adjustable  Indestructible  Loop  Wire 
Receptacle — and  we  give  with  each  one  (without 
extra  charge)  a  copy  of  this  valuable  little  booklet 
containing  full  instructions — one  may  have,  as  I 
have  said,  a  fruit-dish,  a  pin-tray,  a  beautiful  hair- 
comb,  a  watch-chain,  a  sham-supporter,  a  pudding- 
dish,  an  egg-basket,  a  toaster  and  broiler,  a  picture- 
frame,  a  waste-basket,  or  a  jardiniere.  Not  only 
this — I'll  not  detain  you  five  minutes  more,  madam ! 
— but  a  candlestick — you  know  how  fashionable 
candles  have  become  since  this  wonderful  little  in 
vention  has  been  on  the  market? — a  small  easel,  a 
receptacle  for  a  glass  holding  hot  liquid,  as  whis — 
ahem ! — lemonade;  a  stove-hook,  a  flatiron  stand,  a 
tea-tray — perhaps  you  don't  drink  tea?  Beg  par 
don  ;  no  offence  meant,  I  assure  you !  I  was  merely 
thinking  of  my  book — the  statistics,  you  know. 

Yes,  yes,  I  quite  appreciate  your  position,  Mrs. 
Brastow.  I'm  a  busy  man  myself,  and,  of  course, 
the  quicker  I  can  make  a  sale,  the  better  I'm  pleased. 
Now,  sometimes  I  make  a  sale  right  away,  and 
sometimes  it  takes  me  all  the  morning.  It's  against 
my  principles  to  ask  anybody  to  buy.  There's  no 
[352] 


THE   P.  A.   I.  L.  W.  R. 

greater  mistake  in  this  business  than  urging  people 
to  buy.  The  point  is  to  convince  the  lady  that  she 
wants  the  article — just  stay  right  with  her  until 
she's  convinced — and  then  your  work's  done.  The 
really  successful  salesman  never  has  to  ask  anybody 
to  buy.  I'm  very  successful  that  way  myself. 

But  some  ladies  are  slow  to  accept  the  fact,  you 
know,  that  there's  anything  new  in  the  world  that's 
better  than  the  old  thing  they  happen  to  have. 
Now,  I  found  a  little  woman  in  Davisville  last  week, 
who  was  very  hard  to  convince ;  but  I  never  give  up, 
you  know,  never  give  up  !  That's  the  secret  of  suc 
cess.  Never  say  die !  And  I  stayed  with  that  wom 
an  from  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  three 
in  the  afternoon.  But  I  made  the  sale !  Now 
she  couldn't  keep  house  without  the  Patent  Adjust 
able  Indestructible  Loop  Wire  Receptacle.  How 
ever,  I  was  about  to  call  your  attention  to 

Well,  they're  being  sold  now  at  the  remarkably 
low  price  of  sixty -five  cents,  just  to  introduce  them, 
you  know.  Many  ladies  are  buying  them  by  the 
dozen  and  half-dozen,  realising  that  this  opportu 
nity  will  not  offer  again.  When  I  come  around  next 
year,  the  price  will  have  advanced  fifty  per  cent., 
and  I  expect  to  make  twice  as  many  sales,  for  then 
every  lady  will  know  me  and  the  Patent  Adjustable 
Indestructible  Loop  Wire  Receptacle,  and  will  real 
ise  that  she'll  save  her  time  and  mine  by  buying  it 
[353] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

at  once.  Not  that  it  isn't  a  pleasure  to  show  it.  I'm 
as  proud  of  it  as  if  it  were  my  own  invention.  But 
as  I  was  about  to  say 

One?  Oh,  I  think  you'll  need  more  than  that! 
With  a  house  of  this  size,  you  could  hardly  get 
along  without  more  than  that.  I  consider  six  a 
very  small  order  for  a  place  as  large  as  this.  No, 
really,  Mrs.  Brastow,  my  conscience  would  ache  if  I 
let  you  do  yourself  that  wrong.  Yes,  I  know,  but 
you'll  thank  me  when  I'm  gone.  No,  I  couldn't  feel 
right  about  it.  Well,  of  course,  you  might  get 
along  with  three,  but  for  your  own  sake,  I  hate  to 
leave  less  than  half  a  dozen  with  you.  Three  ?  Very 
well.  Yes,  one  ninety-five,  please.  That's  right, 
thank  you.  I  was  about  to  call  your  attention  to 
the  fact  that,  in  addition  to  the  things  I  have  men 
tioned 

My  dear  madam,  I'm  telling  you  this  solely  for 
your  own  convenience !  My  sale's  made.  Very  well ; 
but  you'll  find  in  the  little  booklet  the  directions  for 
making  the  bread-tray,  handkerchief-case,  cigar- 
holder,  inkstand,  footstool,  and  hand-satchel,  in  ad 
dition  to  the  other  things  I  mentioned.  Good  morn 
ing,  Mrs.  Brastow.  I'm  very  glad  to  have  met  you. 
I'll  call  again  next  year. 


[354] 


IN   A    STREET-CAR 


IN   A   STREET-CAR 

A  Monologue 

(She  runs  on  and  pauses,  panting,  on  the  car- 
step.) 

Oh,  conductor,  wait  a  minute,  won't  you? 
There's  another  lady  coming.  Well,  she's  running 
just  as  hard  as  she  can.  She  ain't  so  light  as  I  am. 
(  Calls  to  her  friend. )  Hurry  up !  He  won't  wait ! 
(To  the  conductor.)  Land  knows  we  wait  long 
enough  for  you,  sometimes !  You  needn't  be  so 
mighty  uppish  about  waiting  a  second  for  us  once 
in  a  while!  What?  Time-table?  Huh!  Your 
time-table's  a  movable  feast,  I  guess !  I  notice  the 
only  time  you're  on  time's  when  there's  nobody 
waiting  for  you ! 

(To  her  friend.)  Oh,  here  you  are!  Yes,  isn't 
it  an  awful  pull  up  that  hill?  (Lurches  toward  a 
seat.)  Oh,  my!  (To  a  passenger.)  Excuse  me! 
I  didn't  mean  to !  That  is — I  couldn't  help  it,  you 
know!  (Sits.  To  her  friend.)  Did  you  see  what 
I  did  ?  I  sat  right  square  down  on  that  man !  I 
think  I  smashed  something  he's  got  in  that  parcel ! 
[357] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Something  crushed,  anyhow.  What  do  you  s'pose 
it  is?  Looks  some  as  if  it  might  be  a  hat,  don't 
it?  My,  don't  he  look  cross !  Well,  I  couldn't  help 
it !  These  men  ought  to  learn  to  start  a  car  without 
jerking  a  lady  off  her  feet! 

Oh,  see  here,  I'm  going  to  pay  this  fare !  Yes,  I 
am,  too !  You  always  try  to  get  in  ahead.  No,  I've 
got  it  right  here !  Where  is  my  purse  ?  Why — I 
believe  I've  lost  it !  Yes,  sir,  I  must  have  lost  it  run 
ning  up  that  hill!  Stop  the  car!  Oh,  look  here, 
conductor!  (She  springs  up  and  pulls  a  strap, 
shakes  her  skirts  vigorously,  and  pulls  the  same 
strap  several  times  in  rapid  succession.  To  the  con 
ductor.)  What?  Well,  I  wanted  the  car  to  stop 
and  you  wouldn't  look!  I  lost  my  purse  because 
you  made  me  run  up  that  hill  to  catch  your  old  car, 
and  I  want  to  get  off!  Stop  the  car,  I  tell  you! 
What?  Rang  the  wrong — ?  The  cash  register? 
Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  did !  I  want  to  get  off !  It 
serves  you  right  if  I  did  ring  up  a  lot  of  fares ! 
Perhaps  the  next  time  a  lady  wants  to  get  off  your 
car,  you'll  look  at  her,  and  stop  the  car  yourself! 
Why  don't  you  stop  it  ?  I  tell  you  I've  lost—  (  To 
a  passenger.)  What?  Why,  yes,  that's  it !  Where'd 
you  find  it?  On  the  floor?  Well,  I  declare  !  That's 
all  right,  conductor.  (Sits.  To  her  friend.) 
Well,  how  do  you  suppose  I  ever —  (  To  the  conduc 
tor.)  What?  Pay  for  the  fare  I  rung  up?  Well, 
[358] 


IN    A    STREET-CAR 

I  guess  not !  I'll  pay  two  fares  and  that's  all  I  will 
pay !  I'm  not  going  to  pay  for  rides  I  never  got ! 
Well,  if  you'd  been  looking  where  you'd  ought  to 
'a  been  I  wouldn't  have  touched  your  old  strap ! 
It'll  teach  you  to  pay  some  attention  to  your  pas 
sengers.  There's  a  man  on  the  dummy  wants  a 
transfer,  I  guess.  You'd  better  go  and  see  him,  or 
you'll  get  into  some  more  trouble.  (  To  Tier  friend. ) 
Some  of  these  men  are  so  unaccommodating !  You'd 
think  this  one  was  a  machine,  for  any  interest  he 
ever  takes  in  anything.  The  other  day  I  didn't 
know  just  where  I  wanted  to  get  off,  and  if  you'll 
believe  it,  he  got  real  uppish  because  I  stopped  the 
car  so  I  could  look  up  the  street  to  see  if  that  was 
the  place !  He  wanted  to  know  why  I  didn't  look 
in  the  directory  and  find  out  where  I  wanted  to  go. 
As  if  anybody  could  carry  a  directory  around  with 
them  all  the  time !  Besides,  what's  a  conductor  for, 
I'd  like  to  know,  if  he  isn't  for  the  accommodation 
of  passengers?  (To  the  conductor.)  Here,  con 
ductor,  two.  Transfers?  N-no,  I  guess  not?  (To 
her  friend. )  We  don't  want  to  transfer,  do  we  ?  Or 
do  you  want  to  go  to  see  about  that  bonnet  to-day  ? 
She  said  it  would  be  ready  this  afternoon.  Oh,  con 
ductor,  wait  a  minute!  Well,  perhaps  we'd  better 
go.  What  do  you  think  ?  All  right.  (  To  conduc 
tor.)  Transfers  to — why,  he's  gone!  See?  He 
hasn't  the  least  interest  in  accommodating  passen- 
[  359  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

gers.  I  think  he  ought  to  be  reported.  Oh,  I  kind 
o'  hate  to  do  it.  He  might  find  out  and  then  it 
would  be  unpleasant,  and  us  travelling  on  this  line 
so  much. 

Who's  that  woman  in  the  end  of  the  car,  do  you 
know  ?  She  looks  a  little  like  the  pictures  of  Marian 
Doubleday,  the  actress,  don't  she?  Not  so  pretty, 
though.  But  they  do  say  Marian  Doubleday 
wasn't  such  a  tearing  beauty  until  she  went  on  the 
stage  and  learned  to  make  up.  Oh,  conductor, 
transfers  to  Powell  Street.  I  know  you  asked  us  if 
we  wanted  transfers,  but  you  didn't  wait  to  find 
out  whether  we  did  or  not.  If  you  treat  me  to  much 
more  of  your  inattention  and  impertinence  I  shall 
see  that  you  are  reported. 

Oh,  yes,  Marian's  made  a  great  success  now,  but 
she  had  a  pretty  hard  time  getting  to  the  top,  I 
guess.  Of  course,  she  had  all  sorts  of  things  to  con 
tend  against.  I  sometimes  wonder,  when  I  hear  of 
her  driving  with  Mrs.  This  and  lunching  with  Mrs. 
That,  what  her  swell  friends  would  say  if  they  knew 
that  her  grandmother  kept  a  boarding-house  in 
Sacramento,  and  that  Marian  earned  her  first 
money  as  a  clerk  in  a  store.  I  wonder  why  that 
girl's  face  is  getting  so  red?  Maybe  she  saw  us 
looking  at  her. 

They  say  young  Belshaw  is  perfectly  infatuated 
with  her.  My  nephew  works  in  a  florist's  shop  near 
[  360  ] 


IN    A    STREET-CAR 

the  theatre,  and  he  says  they  send  her  a  big  pile  of 
flowers  from  Belshaw  every  day.  Yes,  my  sister 
Maud's  boy,  Johnnie.  Yes,  he's  pretty  wild. 
Just  like  his  father,  you  know.  His  people  are  all 
that  way.  Poor  Maud  never  has  a  minute's  com 
fort  with  him,  for  if  he's  behaving,  she's  always 
sure  that  it's  just  the  calm  before  the  storm — sort 
of  a  weather-breeder,  you  know — and  she  just  wor 
ries  and  frets  all  the  time.  She  never  loses  a  chance 
to  tell  Johnnie  how  he  ought  to  behave.  She's  never 
had  a  card  in  the  house,  nor  any  wines,  nor  liquors, 
nor  anything  like  that.  She  wouldn't  even  let  him 
learn  to  dance.  And  yet,  that  boy  drinks  and 
smokes  and  gambles  and  heaven  knows  what  else! 
Now,  there's  my  Willie !  There  couldn't  be  a  nicer 
boy  than  Willie!  He  hasn't  a  single  bad  habit — 
and  he's  such  a  comfort  with  his  clothes!  His 
room's  as  tidy  as  a  girl's.  Poor  Maud's  always  ask 
ing  Johnnie  why  he  doesn't  pattern  more  after  his 
cousin  Willie,  and — well,  I  won't  tell  you  what  he 
says.  It's  awful !  And  his  mother  such  a  religious 
woman,  too ! 

But  in  that  florist's  shop,  he  sees  a  lot  of  gay  so 
ciety  fellows  like  this  young  Belshaw,  and  he  thinks 
it's  smart  to  try  to  be  like  them.  Yes,  he's  Dr. 
Belshaw's  son — at  least,  he's  adopted.  Why,  yes, 
didn't  you  know  that  ?  No,  I  never  heard  anything 
in  particular  about  Fred  Belshaw,  but  he's  running 
[361] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

around  after  this  Marian  Doubleday,  and  when  a 
man  gets  to  going  with  actresses,  it's  safe  to  sup 
pose  he  ain't  any  too  strict.  My  Willie  wouldn't 
think  of  doing  such  a  thing.  But  Johnnie  does. 
Oh,  my,  yes !  Well,  there's  that  Dolly  Dixon,  you 
know ;  she's  in  Marian  Doubleday's  company.  Oh, 
I  don't  know  where  he  met  her.  In  the  shop,  I  sup 
pose  ;  and  Willie  says  he  saw  a  great  big  bunch  of 
violets  that  Johnnie  sent  her,  and  him  just  a  clerk ! 
Willie  says  she's  kind  o'  pretty,  though.  He  saw 
her  going  past  the  shop  one  day  when  he  was  there 
visiting  Johnnie.  Willie  goes  to  see  Johnnie  real 
often  and  tries  to  influence  him,  you  know.  Willie's 
such  a  conscientious  boy ! 

Oh,  see  this  woman  just  getting  in  !  Yes,  she  got 
that  silk  at  Allitson's.  They  had  ten  pieces  of  it 
last  year,  and  it  was  a  dollar-forty  a  yard,  but  they 
didn't  get  rid  of  it  all,  and  this  year  they  sold  off 
what  they  had  left  for  ninety-eight  cents.  Yes,  it's 
good  value.  I  think  it'll  fade,  though.  M-h'm, 
that  trimming  looks  real  nice,  don't  it?  She  must 
have  bought  it  at  Meyerf eld's  sale.  Sixteen  cents  a 
yard;  but  it  looks  nice,  don't  it?  I  don't  believe 
it'll  wear,  though.  Meyerf  eld's  having  a  sale  of 
laces  this  week.  Oh,  hadn't  you  heard  about 
it?  Oh,  my  dear,  real  bargains!  I  saw  some  in 
serting  for  four  cents  a  yard  that's  just  what  you 
want  for  the  baby's  things.  Let's  go  right  down 
[362] 


IN    A    STREET-CAR 

there  and  get  it;  and  then  we  can  walk  back  and 
use  our  transfers,  just  the  same.  And  there  was 
some  wide  lace — oh,  as  wide  as  that ! — for  twenty- 
four  cents.  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  you'd  use  it  for, 
but  it  would  come  in  handy  some  day.  Yes,  I 
bought  some,  just  on  a  venture.  It  seems  wasteful 
to  let  a  chance  like  that  go  by,  you  know. 

Oh,  here  goes  the  girl !  If  she  was  only  a  little 
better-looking,  she'd  be  the  image  of  Marian 
Doubleday.  It  must  be  annoying  to  look  so  much 
like  an  actress.  Makes  a  girl  so  conspicuous ! 
Mercy  !  Did  you  see  the  look  she  gave  me? 

Oh,  there's  Mrs.  Beaver !  She's  speaking  to  that 
girl.  Now,  we'll  find  out  who  she  is.  Oh,  how  do 
you  do,  Mrs.  Beaver?  Such  a  long  time  since  I've 
seen  you!  And  is  this  little  Horace?  How  do  you 
do,  dear  ?  How  he  grows !  Just  the  living  image 
of  his  father,  too,  isn't  he?  Your  other  boys  are 
getting  to  be  young  men,  aren't  they?  Your  Tom- 
mie's  just  three  months  younger  than  my  Willie. 
I  hope  he's  as  much  comfort  to  you  as  Willie  is  to 
me.  Smokes,  doesn't  he?  Oh,  don't  you  mind  it! 
Yes,  I  know  his  father  always  did,  and  I  s'pose  you 
do  get  used  to  those  things  if  you  have  to  live  with 
'em,  but  my  Willie  has  never  wanted  to  do  anything 
like  that.  I  never  have  any  more  trouble  with  him 
than's  if  he  was  a  girl. 

Oh,  Mrs.  Beaver,  who  was  the  girl  you  spoke  to 
[363] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

as  you  got  into  the  car?  Marian  Doubleday! 
That  girl  in  the  blue  dress  Marian  Double — well, 
I  said  it  looked  like  her,  didn't  I  ?  But  her  pictures 
flatter  her.  Yes,  she's  getting  to  be  quite  fa 
mous,  isn't  she?  But  it  must  be  embarrassing  to 
go  along  the  street  and  know  that  everybody  knows 
who  you  are!  But  then,  not  everybody  knows 
about  her.  Oh,  I  used  to  know  them  in  Sacramento, 
you  know.  At  least,  my  cousin  lived  next  door  to 
her  grandmother's  boarding-house,  and — why,  yes ! 
Didn't  you  know  that?  And  Marian  clerked  in  a 
store.  Sold  buttons  and  thread  and  that  sort  of 
thing,  you  know.  And  her  grandfather,  old  Dick 
Doubleday,  was  an  awful  old  wretch.  He  used 
to—  What?  Where?  Is  that  Dolly  Dixon?  My! 
Look  at  that  hat !  And  that  coat !  Who's  that  fel 
low  talking  to  her?  Why— it's  my  Willie!  Con 
ductor,  stop  the  car !  I  want  to  get  right  off !  This 
is  some  of  Johnnie's  work !  Willie  never  met  that 
girl  of  his  own  accord !  Conductor,  why  don't  you 
stop  this  car?  But  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  end 
of  the  block !  I  want  to  get  off  here !  Oh,  dear ! 
Well,  good-bye!  Oh,  where'll  I  meet  you?  At 
Mey  erf  eld's  ?  At  the  lace  counter?  Oh,  I  won't  be 
long.  Yes,  conductor,  just  a  second !  Well,  at  the 
notion  counter,  then?  Oh,  when  you're  at  the  lace 
counter,  get  me  two  yards  more  of  that  twenty — 
(to  conductor)  yes,  of  course  I'm  going  to  get  off! 
[364] 


IN    A    STREET-CAR 

— twenty-four-cent  lace.  Oh,  it's  about  so  wide,  and 
cream  colour.  You  can't  miss  it.  Yes,  just  as  soon 
as  I've  sent  that  girl  about  her  business !  (  To  con 
ductor.  )  Oh,  wait !  I'm  going  to  get  off !  Well,  I 
told  you  I  was !  I  never  saw  anybody  so  impatient ! 
I'll  report  you  before  night !  Good-bye ! 


[365] 


A    PATRON    OF  ART 


A  PATRON   OF  ART 

Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Disbrow?  Are  you  go 
ing  so  early?  .  .  .  Yes,  we've  just  come.  This 
is  my  niece,  Miss  Chester.  We've  been  to  the  Gor- 
ham  reception.  Such  a  tiresome  crush!  But  of 
course,  everybody  was  there,  and  one  had  to  show 
one's  self,  at  least.  How  are  the  gowns  this  year? 
Anything  worth  seeing?  A  private  view  is  such 
an  excellent  place  to  see  new  gowns  as  a  rule,  but 
last  year  I  thought  they  were  very  tame.  Mrs. 
Belknap  wore  one  that  was  really  quite  frumpy,  if 
you  remember.  Good  night.  Oh,  by  the  way,  how 
are  the  pictures  ?  Which  one  is  attracting  the  most 
comment?  Bosqui?  Ah,  I  never  heard  of  him.  Oh, 
indeed?  I  must  look  at  it.  Which  wall  is  it  on? 
Thank  you ;  I'll  glance  at  it.  Good  night. 

There's  Mrs.  Forsyth,  Muriel,  that  woman  in 
grey.  She  must  have  brought  that  gown  from 
Vienna.  She's  just  home.  And  there's  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap  in  a  gown  she's  worn  all  winter.  Such  shock 
ing  taste  in  a  woman  of  her  position !  It's  really 
one's  duty  to  dress  as  well  as  one's  income  permits. 
[  369  ] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

Last  year  she  paid  two  thousand  dollars  for  one 
picture,  and  came  to  the  private  view  in  a  shocking 
gown.  I  wonder  who  she's  talking  to?  Frowsy- 
looking  man.  Some  impossible  genius,  I  dare  say. 
She  cultivates  'em. 

Oh,  here's  Kauffman,  the  great  portrait  painter 
— this  large,  shaggy  man  at  the  left.  Let's  go  a 
little  nearer.  He's  talking  about  Bosqui,  too.  Did 
you  hear  that?  "The  success  of  the  year"  .  .  . 
"keen  sense  of  colour  values"  .  .  .  "remark 
able  distance"  .  .  .  "feeling  for  line"  .  .  . 
"atmosphere"  .  .  .  what  was  that  about  at 
mosphere?  I  didn't  quite  catch  it.  Evidently, 
Muriel,  this  Bosqui  is  promising.  We  must  have 
him  in  to  tea  some  day.  Perhaps  I'll  have  him  do  a 
little  thing  for  me. 

Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Dwindle?  Mr.  Dwi- 
nelle,  you've  met  my  niece?  Yes,  we've  just  come 
from  the  Gorham  reception.  Such  a  tiresome 
crush !  We  got  away  as  quickly  as  we  could ;  but 
you  know,  when  one's  friends  entertain,  one  must 
really  show  one's  self,  at  least.  Oh,  everybody  was 
there.  Have  you  seen  Bosqui's  picture?  Such  feel 
ing  for  line  and  distance !  My  dear,  I  predict  that 
he'll  have  a  Career!  Wonderful  atmosphere ! 
Really,  wonderful!  Ah?  I've  been  here  so  short 
a  time,  I'm  by  no  means  sure  I've  discovered  all  his 
work ;  but  one  glance  is  sufficient !  Er — how  many 
[  370  ] 


A  PATRON   OF  ART 

pictures  has  he?  Only  one?  Ah,  really!  Such  a 
pity  there  aren't  more!  It's  quite  the  only  thing 
on  the  walls  worth  talking  about,  I  assure  you.  I'm 
thinking  of  having  him  do  a  little  thing  for  me. 
Yes?  Good  night,  then. 

Muriel,  did  you  hear  Kauffman  say  anything 
about  Bosqui's  chiaroscuro?  Are  you  positive? 
Well,  he  must  have  chiaroscuro,  if  he  has  all  those 
other  things,  don't  you  think? 

Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Atherton?  Muriel,  my 
dear,  here's  Mr.  Atherton.  Yes,  we've  just  come 
from  the  Gorham  reception.  Such  a  tiresome  crush ! 
But  of  course,  one  must  go!  Everybody  does! 
You're  going  there  from  here  ?  Yes,  of  course,  one 
does  see  the  pictures  better  before  the  crowd  comes. 
Tell  me,  have  you  seen  Bosqui's  thing?  Oh,  my 
dear  Mr.  Atherton,  you  mustn't  go  until  you'-ve 
seen  it !  I  have  seldom  been  so  struck  by  a  line — 
I  mean,  by — by — the  distance!  Such  remarkable 
feeling  for  colour,  you  know!  And  chiaroscuro! 
Such  chiaroscuro!  Really,  he'll  have  a  Career! 
You  mark  my  word,  he'll  be  the  success  of  the 
season.  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Belknap?  Mr. 
Atherton,  who  is  that  frowsy -looking  person  with 
Mrs.  Belknap?  Is  he — er — anybody,  you  know? 
She's  been  talking  to  him  ever  since  we  arrived,  and 
— one  never  knows  about  Mrs.  Belknap's  friends. 
Sometimes,  they're  quite — er — well,  the  sort  of  per- 
[371] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

son  one  would  like  to  assist,  you  know,  by  asking 
them  to  tea,  or  something.  And  then  sometimes — 
really,  she  knows  such  extraordinary  persons,  some 
times  !  Ah,  then  I  dare  say  he's  nobody.  Yes,  it  is 
getting  late.  Good  night.  We  shall  see  you  Fri 
day  ?  Good  night. 

Muriel,  there's  not  a  gown  here  that  I'd  be  seen  in 
except  that  grey  frock  of  Mrs.  Forsyth's.  Where  ? 
Oh,  yes,  very  nice,  I  dare  say.  I  don't  care  much 
for  marine  things,  you  know.  Oh,  here  comes  Mrs. 
Bennett.  Art  patron,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
you  know. 

How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Bennett?  Isn't  everything 
charming !  Such  a  relief  to  see  some  pictures  again  ! 
One  gets  so  tired  of  merely  social  affairs !  We've 
just  come  from  the  Gorham  reception.  Such  a 
frightful  crush !  But  of  course,  we  know  them  so 
well,  and — everybody  was  there.  Really,  every 
body,  you  know !  Yes,  the  pictures  are  very  good 
— really  very  good  this  year.  But  of  course,  there's 
nothing  to  compare  with  Bosqui's  thing.  Isn't  it 
wonderful?  Such  remarkable  feeling  for  line,  you 
know — and  the  distance!  My  dear,  did  you  ever 
see  such  distance !  He  has  such  a  rare  sense  of 
colour  values,  too !  Oh,  I  predict  a  brilliant  future 
for  him !  I'm  going  to  have  him  do  a  little  thing 
for  me — just  a  little  thing,  you  know.  You  know 
him,  of  course?  Do  bring  him  in  to  tea  with  us 


A  PATRON   OF  ART 

some  day  while  my  niece  is  here.     Fridays,  you 
know.     Yes ;  good-bye. 

Dear  me,  what  an  ordinary  looking  lot  of  gowns ! 
Eh?  Oh,  yes,  I  dare  say.  I  don't  care  for  figures, 
you  know.  What's  the  title?  "The  Tempest?" 
"The  Tempest!"  How  excessively  stupid !  They've 
made  a  mistake  in  the  catalogues !  Really,  such 
carelessness  is  inconceivable!  I  shall  have  this  re 
ported  to  the  Secretary.  "The  Tempest,"  indeed ! 
Just  a  stupid-looking  girl,  and  an  old  man,  and  a 
— er — a — er — what  is  that  creature  ?  Eh  ?  Thank 
you,  madam;  I  quite  understood  that  it  was  after 
Shakespeare.  How  excessively  impertinent !  That 
young  woman — who  has  never  been  presented  to 
me,  I'm  quite  sure — presumed  to  inform  me  that 
this  picture  is — er — of  course,  any  one  could  see  at 
a  glance!  Well,  my  dear,  the  title  is  misleading. 
It  is  very  stupidly  named.  The  picture  should 
have  been  called  "Caliban."  To  entitle  it  "The 
Tempest"  is — er — is  plagiarism!  I'm  surprised 
that  the  Committee  permitted  it  to  be  hung.  It's 
by  that  man  Sorbier.  They  tell  shocking  things 
about  him.  His  own  father,  who  was  a  very  re 
spectable  sort  of  person,  I  believe,  cut  him  off  with 
out  a  sou,  my  dear,  without  a  sou !  But  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap  receives  him.  She  says  he  has  temperament. 
I  dare  say  he  has.  I've  noticed  that  the  friends  of 
men  who  have  temperament  are  always  apologising 
[373] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

for  it.  There's  Mrs.  Belknap  now,  still  with  that 
frowsy  man.  He  looks  as  if  he  might  have  tem 
perament,  too.  Eh?  Oh,  yes,  yes,  child,  I  sup 
pose  so,  if  you  care  for  that  sort  of  thing.  Land 
scape  doesn't  interest  me,  you  know.  I  wonder 
where  the  Bosqui  thing  is?  Do  you  see  it  any 
where?  How  very  thick  the  crowd's  getting!  Do 
let's  go  and  find  some  punch!  What?  Where? 
Oh,  that?  M-m-m,  no,  I  can't  say  that  I  care  for 
it.  Still  life  never  appeals  to  me,  you  know. 

Oh,  Miss  Wendell,  isn't  this  a  crush?  It's  not 
quite  as  stifling  as  the  Gorham  reception,  though. 
We've  just  come  from  there.  Such  a  frightful 
crush !  Really,  I  wonder  why  we  do  it ;  but  every 
body  was  there,  you  know — and  one  really  must  be 
civil  when  one's  friends 

Eh?  What  is  it,  Muriel?  Oh,  my  dear  child,  a 
mere  smudge!  Do  try  to  cultivate  some  feeling 
for  Art,  Muriel !  No,  no,  it's  perfectly  impossible ! 
What  was  the  man  thinking  of?  Ah,  well,  never 
mind.  It's  nothing  of  consequence.  Real  Art 
idealises,  my  dear.  This  is  hopelessly  realistic. 
That  sky  is  simply  the  colour  that  any  ordinary 
person  might  see.  Indeed,  the  colour  is  quite  or 
dinary  throughout.  You  see?  A  complete  lack 
of  artistic  feeling  and  perception.  Do  let  us  find 
the  Bosq 

Oh,  Dr.  Houghton !  You  came  away  early  from 
[  374  ] 


A  PATRON    OF  ART 

the  Gorhams',  too.  Have  you  seen  the  Bosqui? 
Eh?  What  is  it,  Muriel?  That  the  Bosqui! 
That?  Oh — er — yes,  my  niece  and  I  were  quite 
lost  in  admiration  of  it  as  you  came  up.  Such  a 
wonderful  sense  of  colour  values  !  And — er — er — 
such  a  relief  to  see  a  bit  of  real  Art,  after  the  flood 
of  impressionistic  stuff !  I'm  going  to  have  him 
do  a  little  thing  for  me.  Eh?  Bosqui  himself? 
Really  ?  Do  let  me  see  him !  Where — where  is  my 
lorgnette!  That?  You  mean  the — the  distin 
guished-looking  man  with  Mrs.  Belknap?  Is  that 
Bosqui?  Ah,  one  can  see  at  a  glance  that  he  has 
temperament !  Do,  please,  present  him !  Mrs.  Bel- 
knap  has  monopolised  him  quite  long  enough. 

Muriel,  that — that  very  interesting  looking  man 
who  has  been  with  Mrs.  Belknap  all  the  evening  is 
Bosqui,  and  Dr.  Houghton  is  going  to 

Ah,  Mr.  Bosqui,  so  charmed  to  meet  you !  My 
niece  and  I  have  been  quite  lost  here  before  your 
picture  !  Such  a  wonderful  sense  of  colour  values  ! 
I'm  sure  you  must  hear  colour,  as  I  do!  Doesn't 
beautiful  colour  always  seem  to  you  like  a  chord 
of  exquisite  music  ?  And  the  distance !  Really, 
I  never  saw  such  distance  on  canvas,  never !  And 
the  tempera — er — I  mean,  the  atmosphere!  One 
can  fairly  breathe  it !  Now,  that  little  touch  there 
at  the  left —  Ah,  no,  unfortunately,  I  have  never 
studied  painting — that  is,  really  studied  it,  you 
[375] 


COMEDIES    IN    MINIATURE 

know;  but  I  think  if  one  has  sincere  feeling  for 
ART — er — don't  you?  Ah,  yes,  of  course,  my 
niece;  this  is  my  niece,  Miss  Chester.  Dr.  Hough- 
ton,  will  you  bring  Mr.  Bosqui  in  to  tea  on  Friday? 
There  are  so  many  things  I  want  to  ask  him  about 
his  work,  you  know.  Mr.  Bosqui.  Er — Mr. 
Bosqui!  Dr.  Houghton  has  promised  to  bring  you 
to  us  for  tea  on  Friday.  Oh,  certainly,  my  niece 
will  be  there.  Ah,  that  will  be  delightful !  I  want 
to  talk  to  you  about  doing  a  little  thing  for  me. 
You  know,  I  predict  a  great  future  for  you.  Come, 
Muriel.  So  charmed  to  have  met  you,  Mr.  Bosqui ! 
On  Friday,  then.  Good  night. 


THE  END.?.  ' 


[376] 


YB   145 


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